Priorities
by Richefic
Summary: AU. Set in the I never liked Art Universe. A misunderstanding causes Richie to doubt Duncan's commitment to him. Now complete.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer - Feel like mine. But not.

AN – This is set in the same Universe as I Never Liked Art. After Rich has moved in but just before Mac and Tessa find out that he's actually only sixteen. Hope that's clear!

!!!

Richie Ryan whistled lightly, as he took his key out of his back pocket and inserted it into the lock, which would gain access to the apartment over the Antique Store.

Life was good.

The thought came unbidden and took him rather by surprise. Sure, by nature, he was pretty much a glass half full kinda guy, you did the best you could with what you had, right? Sometimes he hadn't had _much,_ but even in the darkest times there had always been something, a concerned teacher at school, Angie's floor to sleep on, Gary's fridge to raid.

But he could only think of two times in his life when he'd really been happy before.

_Emily._

God, how he wished he could remember her face. He wondered if her eyes had sparkled with amusement the way Tessa's did when he said something funny. Or if her brow had got that little wrinkle in it like Tessa's when she worried over him being sick or injured.

_Teresa. _

Raising her daughters alone, she'd leant to be Mom and Dad both. She had yelled just as loud as Mac when they were watching the Seacouver Seals land a winning basket and she'd answered his awkward enquires about girlfriends with the same tolerant patience as the Immortal.

Talking of which.

"Hey Rich," Duncan looked up from the stove with a friendly smile as Richie appeared in the kitchen. "Enjoy your day off?"

Richie slid into a stood by the counter feeling pleased that the Scot would care enough to ask.

"Yeah, thanks." He sniffed appreciatively at the enticing smells drifting up from the pan on the stove. "You making that chicken thing again?" He asked hopefully.

"Uh huh," Duncan threw him an amused look. "You seemed to like it last time."

"Ah," Richie grinned. "Went a bit overboard?"

"A bit. Not much."

Frankly, Richie was touched that the Immortal would remember what he liked to eat. Between Mac being Scottish and Tessa being French, he had been afraid that he might be forced to eat all kinds of weird stuff. Instead, the couple had been considerate, encouraging him to try new things, but despite their good natured threats neither frogs legs or haggis had been a staple food.

"Can I help?"

"You don't have to."

That was another thing Richie liked about living here. Everyone did their fair share of chores. Not like some places, where the foster child had been seen as cheap labour. In the few, short weeks that he had been living here .. it almost felt like a family. Still, better not to go there. He'd been disappointed so many times before.

It wasn't like Mac and Tessa were his parents or anything. After all, they thought he was eighteen. He'd been in the right place at the wrong time, he knew about Immortals and Mac wasn't the kinda guy to stand by when he had seen that Richie was suffering at the hands of the system. That was all. He was their employee. Not their kid. Maybe that was the difference. Maybe.

"S'ok, I want to." Richie flushed slightly as his stomach made an audible rumble.

"Anything to hurry things along, huh?" Duncan smiled, not unkindly. "You can set the table if you like."

"I can do that."

Richie slid off the stool and trotted over to the draw, pulling out a handle of silverware and starting setting three places.

"Richie," Tessa greeted him, as she came into the kitchen. "You don't have to do that."

"I volunteered." Nonetheless, he was grateful when she reached out the napkins, water jug and glasses.

"Alright," Duncan took the pan of chicken, rice, vegetables and spices off the stove and ladled it out onto three plates. "Dinner is served."

Tessa fetched the warm herb bread from the oven and Richie brought the salad from the fridge as Duncan brought the plates to the table and they all sat down to eat.

"So," Duncan asked after a few moments. "What did you do today, Rich?"

"Um," Richie hesitated. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."

"Oh?"

Looking up, Richie saw only interest, not censure. Encouraged, he continued. "I .. well I kinda won .. a race."

"Motocross?" Duncan said, astutely. At Richie's nod he continued. "And you won? Congratulations.." Duncan's proud smile tugged at his soul.

"Thanks."

"Motorcycles?" Tessa frowned faintly. "This is not dangerous?"

"Not if you know what you are doing." Richie assured her.

"Which he clearly does, if he won," Duncan cut in. "So, where's the Trophy, Tough Guy?"

"That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about," Richie shifted slightly in his seat. "See, what I won was the regionals. If I'm gonna have a shot at the title, the race .. the final .. is next Saturday."

Saturday was his day to work in the Store.

"It's a pretty big deal," Richie pressed his case. "There'll be press there and scouts. If I win .. I might have a chance at the pro circuit. I know, I'm supposed to work, but .."

"Its fine, Rich."

"Its not like, I'm asking for the time off or anything," Richie clarified. "If I can just swop shifts or ."

"Rich," Duncan reached across the table, grasping his jaw gently and forcing him to make eye contact, as if the teen was an errant puppy. "I said, its fine. You've covered for Tess and I, often enough. Go."

"You sure?" Richie needed to know. "I mean, its really OK?" Richie looked at Tessa, who was looking distinctly unhappy.

"The race is this Saturday?" she asked.

"Um. Yeah," Richie was awkward. "I mean, I know its short notice and all .."

"Richie," Tessa looked genuinely upset. "I am so sorry. I have plans for this weekend. They were made months ago. I was going to tell you. I cannot cancel now. "

"Oh," Richie looked down at his plate, pushing the food around. Suddenly, the chicken did not look so appetising, after all. "Its cool, .." he began.

"That's alright," Duncan spoke up. "I'll just have to cheer twice as loud."

Richie looked up sharply.

"What?"

"Well, since Tess will be in Seattle, I'll just have to cheer twice as loud. For the both of us." Duncan clarified.

"You want to come? You still want me to go?" Richie floundered.

"Yes and Yes," Duncan grinned at him.

"But …" Richie wondered if the Immortal had really thought this through. "You'll have to close the Store. You'll lose a whole day's business."

"So?" Duncan shrugged.

"Mac .. these guys are good .. the best .. I .. well .. I could .. well, there aren't any guarantees."

"I know." Duncan said equably.

"You sure you're OK with this?"

"I think, I can afford it." Duncan teased.

Richie couldn't help but feel a warm glow. None of his foster parents had ever gone to any of his stuff. Except, Emily or Teresa and he always thought of them as family .. not carers. Well, no sense dwelling on that. As far as the authorities were concerned he was eighteen now and a adult. He had a warm bed to sleep in, a job and an above minimum wage, decent clothes to wear in the Store, three square meals a day and a not to mention a bottomless fridge and for the first time the chance at a future that didn't include a spell or two in jail. He didn't need parents any more. Not him.

So, why did Mac's offer mean so much to him?

"You don't gotta." Nonetheless, he smiled shyly.

"I'll be there," Duncan vowed. "You have my word on it, Tough Guy."

Richie dug into his chicken with renewed vigour. Yes, life really was good. Whoever would have thought it?


	2. Ch 2

AN - Dear All, thanks for the reviews. Don't worry SC it will _still_ be a nice Mac/Richie kinda fic, grins. Lori, you know he will make it up to him – eventually – but you know I'm gonna make you wait for it!! MorganaPendragon, well a few chapters worth with this story at least, then I have a few other ideas. Yellowvalley – if you feel sorry for him now .. evil cackle! Beth, yeah no real plot twists – well maybe a twizzle or two and Dani consider this a virtual cookie. I like choc chip myself.

And just for once .. no cliffie (don't get used to it!)

!!!

"So," Duncan began, the next morning, passing the artefact he had just un-crated to Richie to tick off on the inventory. "You're pretty good at this racing stuff, huh?"

"I .." It was on the tip of Richie's tongue to actually tell him. Mac seemed like a pretty cool guy. Maybe, he would understand. That when he raced he felt _free._ His mind, his body, his skill, fused with the power of the machine, until they were one together, speeding down the highway and leaving his crummy past behind. But that was a little too close to the bone. So, instead, he took refuge in his patented cocky grin

"I reckon, I can fake it."

"Right," Duncan sighed. Something flickered in his eyes, but Richie didn't know the Immortal well enough to know exactly what. Still, he felt awkward about the brash comment and wished he had been more honest. They worked in silence for a few minutes. Finally, it was Duncan who broke it. "Must be hard though, without a bike of your own?"

"I'll have one .. someday," Richie spoke without thinking.

"Been saving up your allowance?" Duncan sounded amused.

"Um," Richie blushed a sudden red. Maybe honesty wasn't the best policy after all. "Not exactly."

Duncan shot him a sideways look, his curiosity piqued by the teen's sudden reticence. "Oh?"

"Parts," Richie admitted so quietly, Duncan almost didn't hear him. "I've been saving parts."

"You mean, you've been stealing them." Duncan corrected tolerantly.

"I bought some." Richie protested.

"Uh huh, and do you have a receipt?" Duncan sounded amused.

"OK, so I didn't buy 'em at a Store. But I paid big bucks for 'em."

"And how did you get these big bucks?" Duncan raised a quizzical brow.

"I ..," Richie looked up at the Immortal and saw the smirk. He threw his hands up in defeat. "Oh, alright, so I stole other stuff to get the money. Geez, are you ever wrong?"

"In 400 years," Duncan tipped his head on one side. "I have been."

"Well, good." Richie was relieved about that, at least.

"But not much any more."

"Maaac!"

The Immortal flashed him an insufferably smug grin. Not for the first time, Richie began to think that he might have finally met his match in Duncan Macleod, of the Clan Macleod. The thought was .. oddly comforting. It was kinda nice to have someone around he could really respect.

"How many do you have?" The question took him by surprise. He scanned down the inventory list, suddenly realising that he had completely lost track of what he was supposed to be doing. "Um. Just a sec .. I have it right here .."

"I meant the parts, Rich."

"Oh," Richie blushed. Yeah. This guy was definitely one step ahead. OK, so who was he kidding. The guy was whole centuries ahead. "Not enough, but its cool. Gary lets me ride his bike when he's not working."

"Still, that's gotta be hard. You said the competition was tough?"

"Yeah, it's a pretty high class field," Richie agreed. "But I figure, if I'm good enough to make the final, then I've as good a chance as any of them of taking the title."

"That's a good attitude, Tough Guy."

"Thanks." Richie was warmed by the praise.

"Still, wouldn't hurt to get in some extra practice before the big day."

"It wouldn't?" Richie blinked.

!!!

He sat in the passenger seat of the T-Bird. Not exactly awkwardly, he had been out with Mac during the working day before. Mostly on appraisals as Duncan called 'em, Richie called it poking around someone's house to see what kinda expensive stuff they had. The first time Mac had taken him out he'd joked that it was kinda like casing the joint, a little too loudly, judging by the angry sputtering of their would be client about worthless little thieves and the dark frown that settled on his employer's face.

_"Richie, go and wait in the car, will you?"_

_"Mac." Richie had protested._

_"Now, Richie." __Duncan__ had ordered, in a tone that brooked absolutely no argument. A sadistic smirk spread across the householder's face as he watched Richie head sullenly out towards the T-Bird._

_Richie__ had spent the next twenty minutes waiting in the car wondering what was going to happen next. When the Immortal came out, he was empty handed. Richie sank even lower in his seat. Clearly, he'd just royally screwed up whatever deal Mac had going down here. The Immortal got into the car with a face as dark as thunder, put the key in the ignition and pulled away without so much as a word or a glance in Richie's direction. They had travelled for fifteen minutes in total silence before Richie could stand it no longer._

_"Mac .." He coughed over his dry throat and tried again. "Look, I'm really sorry."_

_The Immortal blinked, and glanced over to the passenger seat, as if he had only just remembered Richie's existence. "What?"_

_"About what I said before .. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it," He rushed on. " I didn't mean anything by it. Who knew, Attila the Hun in there would have bat ears .." he trailed off as he realised that was exactly the kind of mouthing off that had got him into this in the first place. "Sorry .." he muttered miserably._

_"Richie, you have nothing to apologise for. Do ye hear me?" __Duncan__'s vehemence surprised him._

_"But …" Richie opened his mouth. Closed it. And for once in his life, wisely shut up._

_"Rich," __Duncan__ indicated and pulled over, so he could turn to face the teenager before continuing. "You made a joke. That's all you did. So, maybe you could have kept your voice down, or waited until we were alone but that's hardly criminal."_

_Duncan__ winced at the unintended pun as he saw the teen flinch._

_"Hey," He reached out and cupped his hand under Richie's chin. "It was just a joke."_

_"But .." Richie bit his lip. But the reassurance he saw in the Immortal's eyes encouraged him to continue. "Its not like it isn't true. That's what I am. That's all I've ever been."_

_"Its what you did," __Duncan__ corrected sharply. "Not who you are. You get to decide who you are. And you're not that person anymore are you?"_

_"I guess, I never thought of it like that." Richie smiled, shyly. "But, … you were so angry."_

_"At him, Richie.__ I was angry at him. How you look or speak doesn't give a complete stranger the right to judge you. That's the worst kind of prejudice."_

After that, he wouldn't have blamed the Immortal if he had never taken him out ever again. But if anything, Mac had made even more of an effort to include him, taking him to Auctions and the like, stopping off on the way home for a walk though the park, or a stroll along the beach, where Mac would spring for Hotdogs or Ice-cream and they'd talk about life and stuff.

But that was work. Well, mostly.

This was. Well, Richie wasn't at all sure what this was.

!!!

"Um. Mac," Sometime later Richie sat up a little straighter. "We just passed the city limits."

"I know."

"So, we're not lost?" Richie needed to know.

"Well, I'm not." Duncan smirked.

"Funny, Mac. So, where are we going?"

"I told you."

"No, you didn't. You said it was a surprise."

"Exactly," Duncan agreed. "Anyway, we're almost there."

True to his word, the Immortal pulled the T-Bird off the highway onto a dirt track leading off into the woods. Richie turned his head as his ears caught the sound of throttles changing down, caught his ear, just before he saw the sign.

"Trail biking?" Richie felt his heart leap. He had always wanted to try this, but it was way outta his price range. Not to mention, he'd never actually been outta the city limits before. Not that he was ever gonna admit that to the Immortal. "We're going trail biking?"

"Or we could go back home and finish unpacking those other crates." Duncan teased.

Richie's face fell.

"Maybe, we should. I mean, we left Tessa looking after the Store. She's not gonna be happy when she finds out why."

That _something _flickered through Duncan's eyes again, before he mustered up a reassuring smile.

"Will you relax? She already knows. Besides, she spent all last Monday afternoon out shopping with her girlfriends, she can hardly begrudge us a bit of male bonding time."

He got out of the car then, to go and meet the attendant, who was coming over to check their booking, so he didn't see the look of surprise on Richie's face. Sure, he had been out with the couple socially once or twice, since he had moved in with them, restaurants, movies, stuff like that. But that had always been the three of them. They had been nice, making sure he didn't feel like a third wheel. Still, Richie could never quite shake the feeling that the couple would have had more fun if it was just them. Without some noisy teen getting in the way.

But here was Mac, taking time off work, just so they could do something together and not something stuffy, but something way cool. Something he liked.

It felt good.

"Hey, Rich," Duncan waved a helmet at him as he gestured towards the most perfect red trail bike Richie had ever seen. "You comin?"

"Oh man!" Richie leapt over the door of the T-Bird, missing Duncan's slight wince as he easily cleared the flawless black paintwork to land lightly on his feet.

"Your kid's quite the athlete." He heard the attendant standing next to Mac comment as he made his way over.

Richie looked away, so he wouldn't have to watch the Immortal disown him. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He should be used to this by now. People had been doing it to him almost all his life. On the photo at the family fourth of July picnic. Thanksgiving gatherings. Christmas dinners. _Oh, he's not our kid._ It shouldn't matter anymore. In the eyes of the world he was eighteen. Mac was his employer. That's all.

"Wait till you see him on a bike." Duncan's quiet boast, brought Richie's head up. He looked sharply at the Immortal, but there was nothing in his expression to suggest that he thought he had said, or omitted to say, anything out of the ordinary.

"Pretty good, are you?" The attendant looked Richie up and down and the teen could almost here the thought _skinny little runt _drift through his head.

"I .." Richie paused, hearing the echoes of his conversation with Mac this morning, so it was the Immortal's eyes he caught and held when he answered. "Yeah, I've been riding on and off for about eight years now. I was the State Under Fifteen Champion."

"Really?" The attendant looked impressed. "So, how come I've never heard of you? What did you do, kid? Take early retirement?"

"I moved." Richie shrugged.

"Ah, outta state, huh?" The attendant sympathised. "Well, there's a few things I need to tell you folks before you can take of .."

As he ran through the safety briefing, Duncan murmured, sotto voice. "State Champion, huh?"

"Um. Yeah." Richie shifted his feet awkwardly. He was really gonna have to re-think this honestly stuff. He did not want the Immortal to discover the fairly well documented fact that he was only thirteen at the time. He was pretty sure he could do the Math and work out his real age. Then there was Walker. And Richie was not ready to talk about that. Not now. Not yet. Maybe, not ever. Stands to reason the Immortal would know there were laws against taking foster kids outta state.

Duncan sighed at the sudden, closed, body language. He wanted the lad to see him as a friend, not just an employer. He needed him to trust him, if he was ever to be an effective mentor. But every time he thought he had made some progress, they hit some closed off part of Richie's past, that left him tight lipped and pale.

The lad had rather too many of those in the Immortal's opinion.

"I knew you were good." He murmured.

"Yeah, right. When did you ever even see me on a bike?" Richie took refuge in sarcasm.

Duncan didn't rise to the bait.

"About two minutes from now," the Immortal grinned, as he tossed the startled teen a helmet. "You wouldn't want to make a liar out of me, now would you?"

"Hell no," Richie laughed. "You'd probably have to do some gross Scottish penance, like eating sheep's eyeballs."

"I'll have you know laddie, that sheep eyeballs are a real delicacy in certain parts of the world. Now, eating one of those double cheese flame grilled servings of cholesterol that you like – that would be real penance."

"With an extra large Cola and Fries?" Richie shot back as he kicked off his trainers and pulled on the boots provided.

"Don't push it!" Duncan laughed. "I don't know how you can drink that stuff. Its nothing but caffeine and sugar."

"Why do you think I like it?"

"You good to go?" Apparently, without conscious thought, Duncan reached out and checked that Richie's helmet was a good fit, The teen felt absurdly like a Knight, about to go into battle, having his armour looked over by his mentor.

"Yeah," He grinned happily. "Thanks for this, Mac."

"You're welcome. I didn't much want to unpack those crates, either." The Immortal swung his leg over his own machine and waited while Richie settled himself on the other bike, giving him a moment to get the feel of it.

"I'm guessing you've done this before?" Richie asked.

"Actually, no," Duncan surprised him.

"You're snowing me? Right?"

"I've ridden a road bike, but that's kinda like saying you can do cross country because you've tried dressage, the technique is completely different."

"If you say so." Richie had no idea what he was talking about. "So, you ready to hit the road?"

"After you." Duncan gestured.

Richie needed no further urging, gunning the red trail bike as they both took off into the woods.


	3. Ch 3

AN – Many thanks for the reviews. Dani – you'll have to wait and see, but I do promise nothing in this is gonna "spoil" anything that comes after (I hope) Lori – Well, I gotta agree, it is a bit sickening that he's sooo good at everything, in 400 years he must have missed a few things!! Yellowvalley, my bad! I just got used to thinking of him as Walker. Beth, so much more fuzzy bonding ahead, I promise! (prob a cliff hanger or two also I'm afraid) And SC I hear you, I love you, I just don't always agree with you!

!!!

"Richie!," Tessa put her hand to her mouth as Richie limped through the door, leaning heavily on the Immortal's shoulder. Her eyes dropped to the tear in his jeans leg and the ragged edges dark with blood. Her eyes flashed as she turned on Duncan. "Whatever did you do to him?"

"It wasn't Mac's fault." Richie defended the Immortal, grunting softly as Duncan lowered him into a chair.

"Sorry." Duncan apologised.

"S'OK." Richie offered him a smile.

"Alright," Duncan quickly pulled the first aid kit out of a nearby drawer and dropped to his knees in front of the teenager. "Let's take a look at you."

Using the bandage scissors he deftly cut the teen's jeans leg away to reveal the painful looking gravel rash, oozing blood, that raked across his right shin.

"Mon Dieu!" Tessa exclaimed, turning her attention to Richie. "What on earth did you think you were doing?"

"I thought, I was making the turn." Richie quipped.

"And I thought you were supposed to be the expert at this?" Tessa challenged.

"Tessa, give him a break," Duncan spoke up, from where he was carefully dabbing at the abrasions. "Even the best riders can hit a patch of gravel now and then."

"It is too dangerous," Tessa declared. "He could have been seriously hurt."

"Yes, he could," Duncan retorted calmly, as he worked, quelling the protest that welled up in the teen, with a single, understanding, glance. "Except that, he kept the bike under control and did everything right."

"So, is it OK?," Richie asked, as he looked anxiously from one adult to the other. "I can still race on Saturday, right?"

It wasn't clear if he meant because of the injury, or Tessa's frowning disapproval. Probably both, Duncan surmised. He spoke up before the Frenchwoman could intervene.

"Sure," he agreed, as he finished cleaning up the abrasions. "After a nap and a spot of dinner and you'll be as right as rain."

"A nap? Yeah, right, Macleod." Richie shook his head in fond amusement.

"Uh huh. Until dinner."

"You're serious?"

"Totally," Duncan retorted calmly, as he packed away the first aid supplies and gave the teen a hand up.

"Won't that make the muscles go all stiff?" Richie tried to protest.

"You need to rest to recoup the blood loss." Duncan was unmoving, as he steered the teen towards the couch.

"C'mon Mac, I'm positively indecent here." Richie flapped the tattered remains of his jeans leg.

"Not if you keep still," Duncan countered smugly. "Besides, its better to let the air get at it."

"If I promise not to move. Can I at least watch, TV?" Richie asked.

"If you like," Duncan agreed, as he settled the lad on the sofa and passed him the remote. Personally, he thought the teen would last about five minutes before he flaked out.

"Mac, if you try to tuck me in, I swear .."

"Shepherd's pie for dinner, OK?"

"So long as you chop the shepherds up nice and small."

"Funny."

"Thanks for today," Richie murmured, still looking at the TV. Then he gathered his courage and turned to face the Immortal. "I had fun."

"Me too," Duncan smiled. "Now, get some rest."

Back in the Kitchen, Tessa had already started dinner was chopping the carrots rather more finely than absolutely necessary.

"Tess, he's fine."

"This time." She countered shortly. "Next time, he might not be so lucky."

"Trust me, luck had nothing to do with it. He really is good."

His tone stilled her knife and she looked over at her lover, a hint of amusement growing in her eyes. "He didn't?"

"Well no," Duncan admitted. "But if he hadn't crashed .."

"He would have won?" Tessa laughed.

"Its not like I have four hundred years experience at everything," Duncan admittedly ruefully. "There are a few skills, I haven't mastered yet."

"The great Duncan Macleod beaten by a teenager?" Tessa came over and put her arms around him. "How can your ego stand such a thing?"

"Maybe," Duncan nuzzled her neck. "You could think of something to restore my confidence?"

"Well, let's see .."

!!!

"Aw, c'mon, Tessa," Richie's voice drifted clearly out of the kitchen as Duncan returned from his run the next morning, "They're fine."

"They do not look fine." Tessa sniffed her disapproval.

"You're not making Mickey's ears pancakes again, are you Rich?" Duncan grinned as he leaned in to kiss Tessa, before catching Richie loosely in a friendly headlock.

"Maac! You stink! Get off me!"" Richie hooked his foot around the Immortal's ankle and tried to trip him. Duncan gave him points for initiative and let go.

"How's the leg?"

"Its OK."

"Uh huh," Duncan opened the fridge and helped himself to an orange juice. "And how is it really?"

"Hasn't dropped off yet."

"Richie." Duncan warned.

"C'mon Mac, I'm walking wounded, how bad can be it be?"

"With you, Rich, who knows?"

"Duncan, take a look at his shoes. They are entirely unsuitable for racing." Tessa returned to her thread of conversation.

"They were good enough the other day," Richie pointed out. "You know, when I won?"

"Does everyone race in trainers?" Duncan asked, already knowing the answer.

"Some people have boots. But its no big deal. And yes, before you ask, I always wear a helmet, Marco has a spare one I use."

"Does it fit?" Tessa challenged.

"You know," Duncan cut in, before the argument could escalate. "What you need is corporate sponsorship."

"Mac.."

"C'mon, Rich. All the big names have it. You said yourself, there'll be cameras there. You'd be doing us a favour."

"You wanna buy me stuff and I'm doing you a favour?"

"Do you know how much a 30 second ad costs on TV?" Duncan didn't want to give the lad the chance to deny him. "Besides, I'm sure there's something about this in your contract."

"Mac. I don't have a contract."

"Well, when I write one I'll be sure and put this in."

!!!

The day of the race dawned bright and clear enough, although summer showers were forecast. Richie emerged from his room, freshly showered and dressed in a faded T-shirt and jeans and carrying his bag to find Duncan slaving over a hot stove.

"Morning, Rich."

"Mac." Richie went over to the cabinet to look out a bowl. "Tess, get away alright?"

Because of her early flight Tessa had said her goodbyes to the teen last night. She had been adamant he shouldn't get up so he could be well rested before the big race.

"Yes, thanks. She left something for you." He nodded towards a small yellow package on the shelf.

"For me?" Putting the bowl down Richie picked up the package and read the card with a broad smile. "She didn't have to. You guys already did so much."

"She wanted to." Duncan assured him.

Richie tore open the package and held up the tooled leather bracelet in awe. "Oh man, that's so cool. She made this?"

"Well, since she couldn't be here .."

"Looks pretty good, huh?" Richie slipped the bracelet onto his wrist and held it out for the Immortal to admire.

"Taking the lady's colour into battle?" Duncan teased, as he set a full plate in front of Richie and took his plate to sit opposite.

"Um. I was just going to have cold cereal." Richie admitted.

"You need the energy." Duncan vetoed that.

Richie looked unhappily at the large portion of bacon, mushrooms, hash browns, pancakes and eggs, as his stomach did nervous flip flops. "Yeah, but .."

"Just try a bite." Duncan encouraged.

"Mac .. I'll be sick."

"C'mon Rich. Just one."

Resigned, Richie forked up a small portion of eggs and put it in his mouth. He chewed. Not so bad. He tried another small forkful. Then another and another.

"Better?" Duncan grinned, when his plate was clean.

"Yeah, much actually. Thanks."

Outside a horn hooted. Richie looked up. "That'll be Marco."

"A bit early, isn't he?" Duncan glanced at his watch. "I thought you said things started at 11."

"The track opens to the public at 11. But the competitors have to be there early to register and run practise laps and the like or they disqualify you." Richie reached for his bag.

"And on a Saturday, it can take an hour to get cross town." Duncan agreed.

Richie hesitated.

"Um, you do still wanna come, right? Cos, you don't gotta, I mean, not if you don't wanna .."

"Hey, I promised, didn't I? And Macleod's never break their word. I have my ticket right here." Duncan smiled and patted his shirt pocket.

"Well, cool." Richie's face blossomed in a rare, genuine, smile.

Outside the car hooted again. A little more insistently this time.

"I gotta go," Richie headed towards the door, then turned to look back, his eyes wide and vulnerable. "I'll see you before the race?"

"You can count on it, Tough Guy."

!!!

Three hours later, Richie looked at himself in the mirror. "Lookin' pretty good, Ryan." He grinned at his reflection, sporting the sturdy leather boots and shiny white helmet that the couple had brought for him tucked under his arm. He'd baulked at the additional expense of leather pants, claiming he wasn't gonna have the Store's logo emblazoned across his butt. The couple had already been too good to him, more than he deserved after he tried to rob them. God, that seemed like a lifetime ago.

If he won today, maybe he could start a whole new life on the pro-circuit. Except, for the first time, he wasn't sure that he wanted that any more. At least, not yet. He had a job here and a home and friends who seemed to care about him.

But who knew how long it would last?

"Rich," Marco appeared in the doorway, a worried look on his face. "Look, I'm really sorry but I've got to split. Sarah's gone into labour."

"But the baby's not due till next week."

"I guess, no one told him that," Marco came over and tugged absently at the collar of Richie's racing jacket. "You take care out there. Watch your knees on those turns."

"Will do." Richie nodded solemnly.

"You win and we'll name him Ryan."

"I'll hold you to that." Richie grinned.

Marco was on old friend. His parents had died in an auto accident when he was twenty one and Marco had taken over running his father's garage and raising his younger brother and sister. Richie had graduated from hanging around the garage and gawking with the other neighbourhood kids, to cleaning parts, tuning engines and finally riding the bikes that were the Mechanic's first love.

"I'd better go," Marco gave him a twisted smile. "Sarah will kill me if I miss the big event. I'll send Frankie over to collect the bikes after the race. You gonna be OK for getting home?"

"You know, you're gonna make a great Dad," Richie grinned, remembering all the other times Marco had worried about him, as a kid. An extra bowl of soup on the table for him, or a blanket left out on the couch. No questions asked. "Its cool. Mac's coming to watch the race. He can give me a ride."

"You sure he's gonna show?" Marco frowned. "He's not here yet."

"I know," Richie wasn't too worried. There was still 30 minutes until the race. "He probably got caught in traffic or something. He'll be here. He promised."

"Yeah, but .."

"No, honestly, it'll be cool. If Mac's says he'll do something. He does it," Richie assured him. "He'll be here."

"If you so say. I gotta go," Marco gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.

"He'll be here." Richie repeated quietly to himself.

!!!

"Riders, ready," Even with the PA system, the Steward's voice could barely be heard over the revving engines. Even as he jockeyed for position on the start line, Richie couldn't help but risk another glance towards the stands, but the seat where the Immortal was supposed to be was still empty.

"He'll be here." Richie repeated like a mantra.

The race itself, passed in a blur. The riders weaving in and around each other as the lead constantly changed in a cloud of dust that had the spectators craning their necks to spot the brightly coloured jackets of the riders, roaring their support and surging to their feet as the bikes crossed the finish line. Mac wasn't one of them.

"He'll be here." Richie promised himself. "He said so."

Almost, mechanically the teen went through the post race motions, his eyes constantly scanning the crowds, for the Immortal.

With no luck.

"Rich. Hey, Richie," Frankie came over and clapped him on the shoulder. "The bikes are all loaded. You sure you don't need a ride?"

"No, I'm good," Richie assured him. "Mac'll be here any minute."

"You sure? The dude already missed the race. Maybe, something more important came up?"

"He said he'd be here," Richie insisted stubbornly. "He musta just got held up or something."

"Well, alright," Frankie climbed up into the trailer. "But if he doesn't show, you call a cab or something, alright? You don't wanna go wandering about in this part of town."

"Hey, I grew up here, remember?"

"Then, you shouldn't need tellin'." Frankie grinned down at him as he pulled away with a wave.

Sinking down on the kerb to wait, Richie began to feel the events of the day catching up with him. Muscles that he didn't even know he had, started to stiffen and ache. He huddled slightly into his jacket as the adrenalin began to ebb and the light wind picked up and the afternoon sun slipped behind the clouds.

"Great, all I need now is for it to begin to rain," Richie cast a sour look up at the sky. "Don't you damn well dare."

Rooting around in his jeans pocket, he found a couple of bills and some loose change. Not nearly enough for a cab.

He sighed and looked at his watch.

Mac had said he would come. He would.

He'd wait a little longer.


	4. Ch 4

AN – Well here's the next instalment. Thanks as ever for the reviews, hum, I'm gonna have to keep my counsel this time as I don't wanna spoil the plot, but I'm glad you are all enjoying – but Sarai, I'd really like to know which story you wanted me to update???

A word of warning – please be aware, Richie gets rather more upset than usual and uses the F-word. Please blink when you get to that part if this offends.

!!!

Richie Ryan gave a weary sigh as he put his key into the door that led up to the apartment. Such was his world that it had rained, of course, so, now he was cold and wet and tired to the bone and, to make matters worse, that unhappy state of affairs was the very least of his troubles. Damn, Damn, _Damn_. He couldn't help but let his eyes slide over towards the alley. The T-Bird was parked next to Tessa's Merc. So, Mac had been here all along, he realised, as he trudged up the stairs. Not on a sudden mercy mission to fly vital medicines to some foreign Orphanage, or any other _legitimate_, explanation. He almost dreaded hearing whatever excuse his employer would come up with for the no show.

Odds were, he'd heard it countless times already.

It was just .. he'd thought .. this time. It was different.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Richie Ryan felt his jaw drop. OK, so _this _was different.

He wasn't sure how he had thought Duncan would act. Apologetic, maybe. Embarrassed, perhaps. The irate Scot, hands on hips, eyes flashing, that greeted him, was a total surprise. So, he said the only thing that occurred to him.

_"What?"_

"You heard me," The Immortal loomed over him. "Where. The. Hell. Have. You. Been?"

Richie swallowed hard. This was not the genial Antique Store owner he had become accustomed to goofing around with these last few weeks. This was the warrior who had cut off Slan Quince's head, without a second thought on Soldier's Bridge .. and not so very long ago.

"I.. I was .. the race ..." Richie took a step back.

"That was over three hours ago," The Immortal dismissed that, as he circled around him, making Richie feel uncomfortably like prey caught in a trap.  "You could have _walked _home by now."

"Maybe, I did," Richie retorted, snapping his head around, as he tried to keep eye contact. "You ever think of that?"

"All the way from the Stadium? You'll have to do better than that."

"Excuse me?"

"I already covered the route from the Stadium. Then I called all the local Hospitals, and the Police Stations, I was about to start on the morgues!" The Immortal's voice rose.

"I kinda took a detour .." Richie began.

"A detour?" Duncan scoffed. "Blonde, Brunette, or Redhead?"

"All three actually," Richie shot back. "I guess they were triplets, or something."

"Damn it, Richie," Duncan clenched his fists, his jaw hard and tight, as he struggled to keep his temper in check. "Don't you _dare_ get smart with me. Do you have any idea what I've been going through?"

"What _you've_ been going through?" Richie echoed stupefied.

"I didn't know where you were. I don't have the telephone numbers of any of your friends. I have no idea where they live. What was I supposed to do? Drive aimlessly around your old neighbourhood, just in case I bumped into you? If you are going to be late. If you are not going to be where you are supposed to be. You make a call. Is that understood?"

"Fuck you, Macleod!"

Duncan stopped dead. He was under no illusions about the .. extent .. of Richie's vocabulary, but the lad was surprisingly respectful about the language he used in their home. Something definitely wasn't right. Duncan paused and took his first really good look at the teen since he walked through the door.

"You're drenched."

"You think?" Richie backed up a few steps, putting some distance between himself and the Immortal, but keeping his angry blue eyes locked on the now confused brown ones. "I have it on real good authority that its been raining."

"But ." Duncan floundered. "What happened to your ride?"

"Left me high and dry."

"What?" Duncan growled. "I thought you said this Marco was responsible."

"Hey, none of this was Marco's fault," Richie snapped. "It wasn't his fault his girlfriend went into labour early. It wasn't his fault I told him I had another ride and it sure as hell wasn't his fault that you didn't turn up!"

"Me?" Duncan realised. "You were waiting for me?"

"You said you were gonna come," Richie protested. "You promised."

"I know I did, and I'm sorry," Duncan gave an awkward shrug, he really didn't want to get into that right now, what with the lad dripping onto the hardwood floors and looking half frozen. "But Rich, that was hours ago. You must have realised .."

"You said you wee gonna come," Richie insisted, doggedly. "So, I told Marco I was cool and I told Freddie I didn't need a ride and I knew I didn't have enough money for a cab, but that was OK, because a Macleod never breaks his word."

Duncan regarded him steadily for several moments. He opened his mouth. Then frowned.

"You don't have any shoes."

"Sure I do," Richie wriggled his wet, dirty, stocking feet. "I have lots of shoes. I'm just not wearing any, right now."

"Look," Duncan scrubbed at his face. "You go grab a shower, I'll make us both something hot to eat and then we'll talk. Alright?"

"Is that a promise?" Richie scoffed.

"No," Duncan figured he deserved that. "It's a .. suggestion."

"Whatever," Richie sighed. He was cold and wet and sore and a warm shower and a hot meal was about all he could deal with right now. Maybe, afterwards, things would seem easier or clearer or whatever. Maybe.

He stalked into the bathroom and started stripping off his wet jacket. He carefully peeled off his T-Shirt, which stuck to his skin where the water had run across his chest, under his armpits and down his neck and the blood had spotted across his ribs.

"Shit, that hurts." He hissed, as his battered body protested even that light movement. He looked down at his jeans in dismay. The tight, wet, fabric would be, he knew, almost impossible to remove with a good deal of bending and wriggling. Still, he wasn't about to cut the fabric away. He'd only bought these last week. He undid his belt and slid it through the loops. Closing the toilet lid, he eased himself down onto the wooden seat and reached down to pull the filthy, wet, socks, off his feet.

OK, that _really_ hurt.

"I can do this, I can." He vowed, through gritted teeth. "Just a little further."

The pain came without warning, robbing him of speech, of breath, of all except, blinding, over whelming, pain. He wasn't even aware that he had screamed, or moved, but he must have done, because the next thing he was aware of, he was lying on the floor with Duncan's hands bracing him gently against his chest, his warm breath against his ear as he coached Richie through the agonising waves.

"Easy, that's it, breathe in and out, slow it down. That's right."

"Oh man," Richie gasped weakly.

"Shh, just hold still a minute," Duncan's cool palm rested lightly on his forehead, gently holding him in place. "Let me check you out here."

Something flickered at the edge of Richie's consciousness, something really important that he needed to remember, as the Immortal carefully started to run his hands up and down his body, talking constantly as he worked.

"Guess you zigged when you should zagged, huh, Tough Guy?" Duncan kept on talking, in a calming, soothing, tone as he worked. "We better not let Tessa know that you took a tumble on the track though, she already thinks motorcycles are too dangerous. It'll just have to be our secret. Still, it can't be that bad if you managed to walk home, hey? You probably just .."

Suddenly, the hands stilled.

"Richie," Duncan's voice sounded  .. odd. "Why do you have a bloody great boot print on your back?"


	5. Ch 5

AN – Thanks as ever for the reviews, sorry ff.net was being a pain again to all those who couldn't.

Some swearing. - Richie's still upset.

!!!

"Richie," Duncan insisted, when his enquiry was met with silence. "I want an answer. "

"Bite me, Macleod." Richie hissed between clenched teeth, as he, carefully, extricated himself from the Immortal's grasp and propped himself up aginst the bathtub.

"Well, I supposed that's progress of a sort." Duncan observed dryly, rocking back onto his heels.

"Huh?" Richie glanced up, his face still gaunt from the sudden pain.

"Well, last time you told me to .."

"Where were you, Macleod?" Richie tipped his head back aginst the cool porcelain of the bathtub and closed his eyes, refusing to look at the Immortal.

"You need to get out of those wet jeans."

Richie opened one eye a slit and treated the Immortal to a scornful glance. Duncan sighed, of course, that was exactly when the lad had been trying to do.

"Well then, you'll just have to cut them off."

"Like hell," Richie murmured, eyes again tightly shut. "I just bought these."

"For Lord's sake, Richie," Duncan began to lose patience. "You'll catch your death on this cold floor."

Without another word he stood up and strode into the kitchen, swearing softly as he rummaged around in a kitchen drawer full of string and pens and assorted junk, until his hand closed around the scissors. In the bathroom Richie hadn't moved.

"Cut them off," Duncan ordered, holding out the scissors, handle first, to the teen. "I'll buy you a new pair."

Blue eyes, bright and brittle, snapped out to regard him with an unreadable look.

"That's your answer? You think your _money_ can solve this? You'll just buy me a new pair and everything will be all better?"

"Well, you won't be freezing to death for a start!" Duncan protested hotly. He had no idea what had got into the lad.

"You bastard, Macleod!" Richie reached out and knocked the scissors out of Duncan's hand, sending them skittering into a corner. "I don't know what I saw in you. I thought you were different. But you're just like the rest of them. Well, fuck you! I don't need you. I don't need anyone."

"Alright," Duncan swatted down in front of the teenager and  reached out and grasped his jaw firmly in one large hand. "That is ENOUGH!"

Richie's eyes went very wide and very blue.

Then completely flat.

"Go on then," he sneered. "You know, you want to."

"A little tip for the future, Richard," Duncan's tone was low and dangerous as he pressed his fingers firmly into the lad's jaw. "Know your enemy and don't let your mouth make threats your body can't keep."

"No, please." Richie all but whimpered, struggling helplessly in his grasp.

"Richie?" Reflexively, Duncan let go, looking at the visibly shaken teen in dismay, cursing himself for a fool. How could he know what he did about the lad and yet treat him so thoughtlessly? "Ach, no. I'm sorry lad, I dinna mean to .."

"Please," Richie's voice was thin and quiet. "Don't call me Richard. Just .. don't."

"I won't," Duncan promised, his tone gentle. "What do you say we get you warmed up, huh?"

"I'm .. " Richie wrapped his arms around his bare chest. "I'm OK."

"Sure you are," Duncan scoffed fondly. Standing up, slowly, he went over and retrieved the scissors from the corner. "C'mon, Tough Guy."

Richie looked from the Immortal's sincere gaze to blink at his out stretched hand.

"You cut yourself."

Duncan glanced down at the dried blood on his hand. He vaguely remembered the blade biting into his flesh as Richie sent the scissors flying across the room. It hadn't seemed important then, it certainly wasn't important now. Unmoving, he continued to offer the scissors. With a sigh, Richie took them, he _was _cold, he'd pretty much proved he couldn't get the jeans off the conventional way and he was dammed if he was gonna ask Macleod to help.

"A little privacy?" he challenged.

He saw the indecision flash across the Immortal's face and for a moment he thought the Scot was going to refuse. When Duncan nodded curtly and turned away Richie felt oddly disappointed. Sure, he could take care of himself. Been doing it for a good long time. Still, that didn't mean he didn't miss feeling cared about. With a heavy heart he turned his attention to the wet material.

!!!

Moving more slowly this time he had got himself out of the jeans and into the shower, without further incident, and was resting on the bed in a large T-shirt and a pair of lose sweats, when the Immortal returned with a tray.

"How bad is it?" Duncan asked, as he set the tray down on the bedside cabinet.

"I'll live."

"Do you need a Doctor?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" The Immortal pressed. "Seemed like you might have cracked a couple of ribs?"

"Its my body. I know if I'm OK or not."

Sadly, Duncan judged that was probably the truth. The lad doubtless had more experience than most at cataloguing the severity of his injuries.

"Here." Duncan offered a thick earthenware bowl and a spoon.

Richie cast a brief glance at the warm soup. His pride wanted to refuse but his stomach gave an audible growl.

"Want me to feed you?" Duncan asked lightly.

Casting a sour look at the Immortal, Richie took the bowl and started to eat. Duncan watched him for a few moments, before breaking the silence.

"Who did that to you, Richie?"

Richie gave a silent snort as he buried his head in the bowl and continued to eat, avoiding eye contact with the Immortal. If Mac was gonna avoid his questions, well two could play at that game. It didn't take centuries to learn how to be stubborn.

"You owe me for those boots, by the way."

The toneless announcement brought Richie's head up in shock. "Hey, that's not fair!" he protested. "I wouldn't even have been walking home if you had been there like you said you would be. I only took the damn short cut down that alley, because I was trying to keep away from trouble, who knew Huey, Duey and Louie, were already there."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realised exactly how the Immortal had played him. Maybe those few extra centuries did give him something of an advantage after all, he thought ruefully.

"So, the Triplets jumped you and took your boots," Duncan surmised. "And the Helmet too?"

"Yeah," Richie figured he might as well cave. It wouldn't take Macleod all that long to piece it all together and he was too tired and sore to dance around the topic any longer. At least he didn't seem to be mad.

"They left you the jacket though," Something that was definitely amusement tugged at the corner of Duncan's mouth. "I'd have paid them to take that away."

"Hey!" Richie protested, surprised. "I like that jacket!"

"Really?" Duncan quirked a brow. "Such a nice shade of green."

"OK, so maybe I wouldn't have picked those colours," Richie admitted. The guy was definitely being pretty cool about all this. "But it's a proper racing jacket. Its saved my skin more than once."

"Those must have been some pretty serious boots, to leave a mark." Duncan agreed.

"Yeah, steel toes," Richie made a face. "Look, I'm sorry about your stuff, OK? I'll pay you back."

"Now who thinks money can make everything all better?" Duncan chided. "Putting aside the fact that it was your stuff. We gave it to you. I don't care about the bloody boots. I do care that you got hurt trying to hang onto them."

Richie felt the guilty flush rise in his face before he could open his mouth to deny it. Damn. "You know, you being right about everything, could get pretty annoying after a while."

"So, I've been told," Duncan took the now empty bowl from him and replaced it with a mug of hot chocolate. "Leave it alone, Richie."

"Hey," Richie swallowed his mouthful of chocolate so fast he scaled the back of his throat. "I never said I was going after them. Those guys are real bad news."

"So, you do know who they are then?" Duncan asked innocently.

Richie opened his mouth. Closed it. Scowled.

"Alright, then. You're so smart, you tell me something."

"What?" Duncan picked up his own drink and took a sip.

"Where the hell were you, Mac?"

He was proud of how casually it came out. Alright, so it might have been more satisfying if the Immortal had choked on his drink or something, but he'd take what he could get.

"I .. um .." An unaccustomedly abashed look passed over the Immortal's face. "I was meeting a friend."

"A friend?" Richie echoed, trying to swallow his disappointment. He'd hoped that he and the Immortal were becoming friends, but maybe his employer didn't see it that way. "You never said."

"I didn't know," Duncan shrugged. "They just got into town this morning."

"Oh well," Richie felt awkward, it wasn't like he had any special claim over the Scot's time. "Did you guys have fun?"

"We caught up," Duncan hedged. "We hadn't seen each other in a while."

Richie's eyes narrowed. He might not have the Immortal's centuries of experience but he had had enough practice with people trying to hide things from him to know that while the Immortal wasn't exactly lying he was definitely not telling the whole truth.

"So, was she pretty?" he quipped.

It was a joke. A stupid joke. He knew how much Mac and Tessa adored each other. He expected the Immortal to ruffle his hair and tell him to mind his manners. Instead, the flash of guilt in the Immortal's eyes told its own story.

Richie felt sick to his stomach.

"It was a date?" He spluttered. "Tessa goes outta town and the first thing you do is stand me up for a _date_?"


	6. ch 6

AN- Thanks for the reviews, I really enjoy the feedback, especially since I know how it all turns out!! And a quick note to Arsinyk – thanks for the detailed crit, you were very kind as I noticed several errors you didn't mention, but that's what happens when you write at 2am, I wrote this in daylight so I hope these commas are in the right place, but what can I say? Punctuation hates me!

!!!

"What?! No!" Duncan's eyes went wide with genuine consternation. "It isna like that!"

"No?" Richie challenged. "Tessa only got on the plane this morning and by lunchtime you're making plans to blow me out to meet your lady friend. Got dressed up real nice for it too."

He hadn't much noticed, or cared, before that the Immortal was not wearing the same clothes as when he had left that morning. Both Mac and Tessa might go through several outfits in a day, depending on what they were doing. Richie thought it made for a lot of laundry, but it wasn't really his business.

This was, Tessa was his friend. He'd be dammed if he'd see the Scot jerk her around like he'd seen so many of his foster fathers do to their partners in the past.

"Richie, listen to me .."

"Why? So you can tell me how hard done by you are? How difficult it is, cos you love them both, really?" Richie sneered in disgust. "Damn it, Macleod," Richie blinked hard, at the stupid, treacherous, tears that burnt in his eyes. "I thought you were different .. some one I could .. look up to. I respected you .. but all that stuff about honour and family values and stuff was just a load of crock. Wasn't it?"

"Richie, I am different. I am _Immortal._"

"What? So, that means the normal rules don't apply?" Richie scoffed. "You types are allowed a harem or something? You wanna try explaining that to Tess?"

"Not if I want to keep my manhood." Even in the circumstances, Duncan couldn't help but grin at the very thought.

Richie paused.

"You're laughing at me." He accused.

"No," Duncan tried unsuccessfully to keep his face straight. "No, I'm not and Tessa would be very proud if she knew how vehemently you had defended her honour."

"Vehemently?" Richie frowned. "That's a good thing, right?"

"Yes lad, it is," Duncan agreed. "Its what families do for each other."

"Alright," Richie eyed him cautiously. "Sooo, why am I getting the idea that I have the wrong end of the stick here?"

"You have the right end of the stick," Duncan allowed. "Its just .. well it's the wrong stick."

"I'm guessing that made sense in your dimension."

"I did meet a woman today," Duncan admitted. "But it wasn't a date. At least, not in the sense you mean. She was an Immortal, Rich."

"An Immortal? As in .." Richie made swooshing motions with his arm.

"Yeah." Duncan admitted, studying the teenager's face carefully for his reaction.

"Oh." Richie looked down at the bedclothes. Suddenly, he felt like such a whiney kid. Here he was sulking that the Immortal hadn't shown up and all the time the guy was fighting for his very life. "You shoulda told me," he said quietly. "I woulda understood."

"Would you?" Duncan asked, levelly.

Richie bit his lip and turned away, to hide his sudden flush. He supposed he couldn't blame the Immortal. He'd acted like a spolit brat. Mac had been good to him, more than good. He'd given him the time off to take part in the race, he'd taken him tout o practice, and defended him to Tessa, he'd even bought him all that cool gear. And as soon as the going got a little rough, Richie had bailed on their friendship and thought the worst. Who was he to lecture the Immortal about honour and stuff?

"So, .. what happened?" he asked, quietly.

"I tried to talk her out of it. I couldn't." Duncan sighed.

"So, you fought?"

A nod.

"And, you won?" Richie shook himself at the Immortal's telling glance. He was here and alive, wasn't he? Of course, he won. But that meant. "Did you? Um. What happened to her?"

"I took her head." Duncan said hollowly.

Richie pressed his lips together, disconcerted by the Immortal's evident chagrin.

"But that's what you have to do, right?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Sometimes." Duncan admitted.

"Sometimes?" Richie arched a brow.

"Its your decision. If you think they are merely brash and foolish or deserving of mercy, you can spare them. But it is always a risk."

"And you figured she wasn't worth it?" Richie winced at how bad that sounded. "I mean .."

"I know." Now it was Duncan's turn to look away. "She'd been watching us Rich, the store, the apartment, where we went, what we did. As we fought she told me that she had gone after you and Tessa both. I guess she wanted to put me off my stride. Instead, she just made me all the more determined to win."

"Tessa?" A look of consternation flashed across Richie's face. "Did she hurt her? Is she alright?"

"She's fine," Duncan reassured him. "I was able to reach her in Seattle. She doesn't know about this and I'd like to keep it that way. No sense in worrying her without cause.

"Yeah. Well. Its over now, right?" Richie agreed.

"Until, the next time," Duncan met his eyes. "You gave me quite a scare, Tough Guy."

"Me?" Richie looked genuinely surprised. "Why me?"

"Remember, what I told you when you agreed to move in?" Duncan reminded him. "That it would be dangerous, living with an Immortal?"

"And I need to duck and cover when the swords start flashing. Sure."

"I also said .. that if you are living here, you are going to be a target, which means anyone who wants to get to me, might try to go through you."

"Yeah, but ..," Richie squirmed slightly. "I guess, I didn't really take that part seriously. I mean, its not like I'm important or anything."

"You are to me." When I couldn't find you I got worried. Then when I realised I didn't have a clue where to begin looking for you, I was frantic. If she really had taken you, I would have had no idea what to do. By the time you walked through the door all I could see was that you were alive and still had your head .." he caught himself. "And all your arms and legs, of course. I guess I was so relieved, I just .."

"Started yelling?" Richie finished for him with a grin.

"Yeah," Duncan gave him an abashed look. "Pretty daft, huh?"

"Naw," Richie gave him a lopsided smile. "Teresa used to do it all the time."

"Teresa?"

"Old foster mother. She said it was only because she cared .." Richie flushed slightly. "Um, I mean .."

"I do care about you, Rich," Duncan reached out and tousled his hair. "You're family, don't you know that yet?"

"I've been family lots of times. Doesn't usually last."

"Well, I'm going to be around for a real long time. So, you better get used to it, Tough Guy."

"Maybe, I can fake it." Richie grinned, cockily at him.

"Don't start that, again," Duncan retrieved his empty mug and stood up.

"So, with these enemy Immie types, are we talking kidnapping, torture, or just being bored to death with tales of their evil exploits?"

"We're talking you telling me where you are going, with whom and when you will be back." Duncan threw back over his shoulder as he padded into the bathroom. After a brief search, he plucked the bottle of painkillers from the cabinet and filled a glass with water.

"Definitely torture," Richie was muttering as he returned.

"I heard that," Duncan put the painkillers and water within reach on the nightstand. "If you need em, use em. Understand?"

"Yes, Mom," Richie rolled his eyes.

"So," Duncan settled himself back on the bed. "How was the race?"

"It was alright."

"Just alright?" Duncan teased. "No blow by blow account? No interviews with the world's media? Should I look for you on the local evening news?"

"Maac."

"You could at least tell me where you placed?"

"I finished." Richie shrugged.

"Well," Duncan swallowed his own disappointment and tried to be encouraging, for the lad's sake. "That's an achievement in itself. You said it was a very strong field."

"Yeah," Richie gave an over exagerated yawn. "Sorry, I guess I'm pretty tired."

Duncan eyed him with suspicion, but decided not to pursue it for now. If the lad was embarrassed that he hadn't won, it would be better to talk it out over a hearty breakfast in the morning, after a good night's sleep. They had both had enough emotional turmoil for one day.

"Alright," Duncan stood up and retrieved the tray. "If you need anything .."

"Thanks, Mac," He waited until the Immortal was almost at the door. "Mac?"

"Yeah?" the Immortal turned.

"I'm glad you're OK, it .. well it wouldn't be the same round here without you."

"The feeling is mutual laddie." Duncan grinned.

!!!

Pulling the bedroom door slightly to, and turning on the hall light, Duncan made his way down towards the kitchen, depositing the tray on the counter. He was putting the used crockery in the dishwasher, when the phone began to ring. Thinking it might be Tessa, he quickly wiped his hands and went to answer it before the answer phone cut in.

"Hello?"

"Look, I'm sorry to call so late," an unfamiliar voice apologised. "But is this the right number for Richie Ryan?"

"It is, but I'm afraid he can't come to the phone, right now."

"Pretty wiped is he?" The voice laughed. "I know the feeling. Could you give him a message for me?"

"Sure," Duncan asked. "Um. Who is this?"

"Oh, right, sorry, its been quite a night. I'm Marco Ferranti, I own the outfit that Richie races for. I was just calling to tell the kid that Sarah had a boy and I already spoke to Frankie so you can tell him I'm keeping my word and calling the baby, Ryan. Oh and there'll be a few extra dollars for him next time he comes around. I don't wanna lose him to the big leagues if I can help it. Not just yet."

"I'm sorry?" Duncan felt like he was losing the thread of the conversation.

"Well, from what I heard he had quite a few pro-circuit scouts interested in signing him up on the spot. Still, what can you expect after a big win like that?"

Duncan swallowed hard. Richie had _won_?

"The kid has class and no mistake," Marco was still talking in his ear. "Tell him, I'll catch up with him soon. I wanna see the trophy."

"Trophy?"

"Yeah, real nice piece of silverware. Must be worth a mint," Marco enthused. "Well, gotta get back to the family. You tell him I called, Mr Macloed, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Duncan managed. "Thank you for calling and congratulations on your son. Ryan is a fine name for him. I'm sure he'll make you very proud."

Putting the phone down, Duncan's eyes slid to the sliver of light leaking under Richie's bedroom door. Richie had won. He should be swinging from the rafters.

So, why hadn't he said a word about it?


	7. Ch 7

Richie Ryan groaned as he turned over in bed, and not just from the bright sunlight pouring into his room, or the large collection of bruises on his torso, that were rapidly taking on various hues of purple and black, but from the sure, certain, knowledge that yesterday hadn't just been all a dream.

Yeah, right. More like a nightmare. In Technicolor, no less.

It should have been the happiest day of his whole, entire, life. College had never really been an option, not for him. It wasn't like he had a trust fund or anything, and they didn't give out academic scholarships to kids who dropped out. He was too short and skinny to be much of a jock either. What with his Juvie record, and without a High School Diploma, even a regular job had been way outta his league. But racing. Now that was something he could do.

Racing was legal. He could earn money. Lots of money. It would get him girls. Real beautiful model type girls. And, most important of all, it had always been his ticket outta Seacouver. Away from those parts of his past that he had spent most of his waking hours trying to forget.

Except that, now things were different.

"Rich?" The soft knock on his door was followed by the Immortal putting his head around the door. "You're awake, at last, then."

"I'll take your word for it," Richie yawned and scrubbed at his face. He was still pretty wiped. "What time is it, anyway?"

"10.30. "

"You're snowing me, right?" Richie turned his head to look at the alarm clock over on the dresser, which he never set, because he was woken up, more regular than clockwork each morning, by the Immortal. He blinked. It was now 10.31.

"Jeez, what happened?" Richie looked back at the Immortal, Duncan never let him sleep this late. "Did someone die?"

The shadow that flashed across the Immortal's face made Richie feel like a complete heel. Of course, someone had died. That psycho Immortal chick and Mac had been the one to kill her. "Oh, hell Mac, I'm sorry, I didn't mean .."

"I know," The Immortal gave him a brief, tight, smile. "If you can make it to the kitchen in twenty minutes, I'll fix breakfast."

"Cool. Thanks Mac. Richie turned on his side and snuggled back down into the covers.

"In order to do that you do need to get up." Duncan commented dryly.

"Aw, c'mon," Richie rolled over, carefully, onto his back to look up at the Immortal. "I don't need twenty minutes to get from here to the kitchen. Two, tops."

"Twenty," Duncan corrected. "Because you're taking a bath first."

"Aw, Maac .."

"It'll help the bruises. Besides, you stink, Tough Guy."

"Hey, teenage hormones, here," Richie sat upright to glare at the Immortal, hissing a little as his various hurts made themselves known.

"A bath would help with that."

Duncan grinned to himself, as the muffled thump of a pillow hitting the wall, followed him down the hall. Time to put the rest of his plan into action.

!!!

Nineteen minutes later, Richie padded barefoot into the kitchen, comfortably dressed in an old pair of jeans and one of his favourite long sleeved T-Shirts, drying his still damp hair on a towel.

"Something sure smells good. Namely, me." He quipped at the Immortal.

"I'm glad to hear it. Take a seat." Duncan lifted the frying pan off the stove and brought the scrambled eggs over to the table, dividing them between the two waiting plates. Warm croissants, jellies, orange juice and coffee, were already on the table. Duncan returned the frying pan to the stove and had just put his hand into the fridge to pull out the chilled Champagne, when the doorbell went.

"You expecting anyone?" Duncan looked over at the teen.

"Who me? No," Richie paled slightly. "You don't think your friend had a friend, do you?"

"Maybe." Duncan closed the fridge and started walking towards the door.

"Whoa, no wait!" Richie shot to his feet and scooted around in front of the Immortal, grabbing hold of his arm. "You can't be thinking of going out there!"

"I have to," Duncan met his eyes. "Its what we do."

"Why?" Richie demanded. "Just stay here. They'll leave. We'll all keep our heads."

"I won't fight unless I have to."

"That's not real comforting, Mac."

"Richie .." Duncan sighed. This was hardly the time or the place. "Look, just stay behind me, OK?"

"What!" Richie backed up a step. "Whatever happened to 'stay here, Richie.' 'Don't follow me, Richie.'"

"Never works," Duncan shrugged. "At least, this way, I'll know where you are and I won't have to worry about you trying to sneak up on us to find out what is _going down_." He rolled his eyes.

"Funny, Mac."

"Hey, Ryan. Richie Ryan. You in there? Open the door, willya? I don't got all day." A voice drifted up the stairs.

Duncan raised a brow at the teen. "I thought you said you weren't expecting anyone."

"I wasn't .."

"Richie, if this is some irate father, angry because you've deflowered his daughter .." Duncan warned.

"Hey, I'm seeing Chrissy," Richie looked offended. "For, like a whole week now. We're practically going steady."

"My mistake," Duncan shook his head. "Stay behind me, alright?

"Right."

The pair made their way down the stairs and into the Store. Duncan studied the man, clearly visible through the glass door. Not an Immortal. He would have felt the buzz before now. And not in the best of shape, if the slouched posture, beer belly and double chin were any indication. As he was waiting, he was taking large bites out of a grease soaked paper packet and gingerly sipping from a steaming polystyrene cup, as he studied the window display. Duncan knew better than to underestimate potential opponents, someone had been watching the store these last few weeks, after all.

But still.

"Mac," As the Immortal moved towards the door, Richie tugged on his sleeve. "Watch out. That stuff could be laced with some deadly nerve numbing poison or something."

"It is. Its called caffeine. And you watch too many horror movies." He opened the door.

"I'm Duncan Macleod. Can I help you?"

"Harry Blake. How much is that vase?" Blake tipped his head in the direction of the window display. "I think my wife would really like that."

"About $10,000." Duncan told him.

"Whoa," Blake whistled through his teeth. "Who'd figure people would pay that much for second hand?"

"Antique," Duncan corrected. "But you didn't come to buy the vase, did you?"

"Not at that price," Blake shook his head, ruefully. He looked helplessly at his burger and drink, before apologetically offering the polystyrene cup to the Immortal. "D'you mind?"

Duncan gave him a look, but took the cup. If things turned nasty he could always throw the scalding coffee at Blake's crotch. From out of his jacket Blake pulled a sheaf of papers, which he proceeded to frown at.

"Maybe, I have the wrong address. I'm supposed to give these to a Richie Ryan."

"He's being served?" Duncan stood up a little straighter.

"What? No, nothing like that," Blake looked up in surprise. "Its standard policy. He has to get a copy within 24 hours of signing. Course, its Sunday so none of the corporate big shots who were dining in the fancy trackside boxes yesterday are gonna haul their butts across town for this, so here I am. Sign here, willya?" He held out a docket.

"I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, thanks man," Suddenly, before Duncan could curse him for his stupidity, Richie had reached around the Immortal, scrawled his signature on the docket and snatched the papers out of Blake's hand. "We really appreciate you coming all this way and on a Sunday too. Here's a ten. Maybe, you can start saving up for that vase."

"You're Richie Ryan?" Blake asked, looking at the signature. "You look younger than you did on TV."

"Yeah, well, you know what they say," Richie shrugged. "The TV adds ten."

"I thought that was pounds. Not years," Duncan seized the lad firmly by the back of his shirt and pulled him back, holding out his hand for the papers. "Let me see those."

"C'mon, Mac," Richie tried to hide them behind his back. "You want to stand out here all day? Breakfast is getting cold and you know how you hate your eggs when they go all rubbery and .."

"Richie."

"Look, we're probably keeping this nice man from his Sunday lunch. I betcha he has a wife and kids and .. and a dog, yeah definitely a dog, waiting for him. You have a dog, right?" he appealed to Blake.

"Yeah," Blake face softened. "Golden Retriever. Her name's Honey. You want to see a picture?" he offered eagerly.

"No, he does not want to see a picture." Duncan vetoed that, forestalling Blake reaching for his wallet by thrusting the cup of coffee back into his hand.

"C'mon Mac," Richie backed up a few steps, into the Store. "Its not like this is a big deal or anything."

"Not a big deal?" Blake laughed. "You just signed a contract with one of the biggest outfits in pro-biking. This time next year, you're gonna be a superstar, kid.

"Contract?" Duncan asked, his voice expressionless.

"Uh huh, five years," Blake nodded. "Well, gotta go. See you around, kid."

Duncan closed the door carefully behind him before turning to face the teenager.

"You signed a five year contract?"

"Um. Yeah." Richie shifted from foot to foot.

"Is this why you didn't tell me you won the race?"

"It wasn't ... " Richie paused. "You know about that?"

"Not from you." Duncan said coldly.

"Mac, I was gonna tell you." Richie said weakly.

"When? When you'd packed all your bags and were about to walk out the door?"

"No, Yes, I .. I don't know." Richie floundered.

"I thought you liked it here. I thought you were happy here." Duncan bit off the words.

"I do. I am .." Richie assured him.

"Yet the first chance you get, you can't wait to get out of here!"

"It wasn't like that .." Richie felt his own temper rising.

"Well, it sure as hell looks that way to me."

"How would you know? You weren't even there!"

"Is that what all this is about? Richie, I had no _choice_."

"I know that, don't you think I know that?" Richie clenched his fists as he tried to hold onto his emotions. "That just makes it worse. She could have killed you Mac. You could have been dead and all I was thinking was what a ass hole you were for not turning up. I called you every name under the sun, worse than any of my foster parents, cos I had been so sure you would show."

"Rich," Duncan sighed. "You weren't to know."

"Yeah, I should have. How many times have you shown me that you supported me in this? But the first time things didn't go exactly the way Richie Ryan wanted, this is how I repay you? God, Mac, I feel like such an idiot." He sank down on the steps, feeling the Immortal settle in beside him.

"So," Duncan nudged him. "Is this your version of joining the French foreign legion, then?"

"If that means did I think getting outta dodge would solve all my problems, then yeah. I guess I did," He looked at Duncan and gave him a rueful grin. "Besides, I was pissed."

"And now?"

"And now, its too late, Mac. I already signed the contract."

"Nothing is set in stone, Rich. What do you really want?"

"I do want this," Richie admitted. "I always have. But it didn't feel like I thought it would .. when I signed on the dotted line .. all I could think of was what I was leaving behind. I mean, I have a job now, a cool place to live, my friends are here and .. you guys .. I .. well I'd miss you guys."

"Then don't go. At least, not for a decade or so."

"What about the contract?"

"You let me worry about that," Duncan stood and offered him a hand up. "C'mon let's go and see about breakfast and then you can show me the trophy."

"The t trophy?" Richie stuttered.

"Yeah, you know, the big silver thing they give you when you win?"

"Um .. about that. I .. um .. don't have it."

"Don't have it?" Duncan frowned. "Why don't you have it?"

"Hey, I was mugged, remember?" Richie shrugged akwardly.

"I know," Duncan held his gaze for a moment and then strode towards the kitchen, leaving the teenager to trail in his wake. As they rounded the kitchen island, Duncan stepped aside. Richie gave a small gasp as he saw his boots and his helmet sitting on the floor. They had been thoroughly cleaned and looked as good as new.

"My stuff," Richie looked at the Immortal. "But how ..?"

"You know what they say about the early bird getting the worms," Duncan's tone was expressionless. "Funny thing is, they didn't know anything about a trophy."

"I never said they took it." Richie defended himself.

"You implied it."

"Alright, so I might have got a little creative."

"So," Duncan stepped up so they were eye to eye. "Where is it?"

Richie mumbled something.

Duncan blinked. Surely, he hadn't heard that right. "What?"

"I said, I threw it in the lake."


	8. Ch 8

AN – Thanks as ever for the e-mail feedback and for the reviews, one more chapter to go after this.

!!!

"He did what?" Duncan had to move the phone away from his ear as Tessa's voice rose in disbelief.

"He threw the trophy in the lake." Duncan repeated, his voice tired. He had already had the uncomfortable duty of explaining to her that he had been forced to miss Richie's race, because of a challenge and that, yes, he had omitted to tell her of this the last time he called. He left out the part about how he would not have told her this time, if he could have avoided it. After, four hundred years a man had to have learnt something about self-preservation.

Except, when other things were more important.

"But why would he do such a thing?" Tessa worried. "He worked so hard for it."

"I know, sweetheart. I could tell he was looking forward to my being there. I'm guessing, when he won and had no-one to share it with, he took it harder than I expected."

"You are guessing this?" Tessa's tone did not bode well for the Immortal. "You did not ask him?"

"Oh, I asked him, alright." Duncan's tone was self depreciating.

"You mean you yelled at him." Tessa surmised.

"I didn't mean to," Duncan ran a hand through his hair. "Its just, he can be so damn infuriating sometimes. Well, most of the time, actually. How is it that I can face down hardened criminals without a flicker of emotion, but ten minutes in a room with him and .. and .."

"Because he is a teenager." He could hear the smirk in her voice.

"Tessa, its not a disease."

"No, it is a state of mind and some things can be very confusing at that age. Especially, for a boy like Richie who has not had a family to show him how things should be."

"Still, I should know better. I do know better."

"Mac?"

"I didn't handle things very well."

!!!

_"You did what?" __Duncan__'s face darkened with disappointment._

_"I said, I threw it in the lake, alright?" Richie retorted, his face flushed with embarrassment. The teen turned on his heel and would have walked away, except that __Duncan__ caught his arm in a vice like grip._

_"The hell it is! You wanted this. You've worked for this. Why would you do such a foolish, idiotic, thing?" __Duncan__ gave him a little shake._

_"Because, I'm an idiot, I guess."_

_"Not good enough. Try again."_

_"Let me go."_

_"No. I will not allow you to run away from this. From us. You are too important for that."_

_Richie's__ face twisted and he began to struggle in the Immortal's grasp, his eyes blazing._

_"I said, get off me!"_

_Damn, too late, __Duncan__ realised that he had allowed himself to get too comfortable around the lad. Manhandling the teen, much as his father might have done him, was only going to push the skittish youth further away. Thinking fast, he shifted his grip so he was holding Richie gently in place with a hand on each arm and spoke more calmly. "Not until you tell me what is going on in that head of yours, Tough Guy."_

_"Nothing," Richie snapped, pulling out of his grasp. "There's nothing going on in my head, cos I'm a fool and an idiot, just some no good waste of space that happens to live in your place, right?"_

_"You are much more than that and you know it."_

_"I don't know anything!" Richie protested. "I don't know how to fit in here. I don't know what you want from me. You guys are all about honour and loyalty and family and honesty and I suck at all that stuff. I'm just plain ol'Richie Ryan, lookin' out for number one."_

_"That's no true!" __Duncan__ responded, his accent thickening._

_"Yeah, it is," Richie backed up towards the door. "You just don't see it yet. Well, I'll save you the trouble."_

_"Richie, wait. Where are you going?"_

_"I'm outta here, Macleod. And after tomorrow you won't have to worry about me no more. Cos, I'm taking Saracen up on their offer and I won't be around to be a disappointment to you."_

!!!

"And he has not come home?" Tessa worried. "Duncan, it is almost midnight.."

"Don't worry," Duncan assured her. "He's alright. I followed him. He's staying with a friend."

"You followed him? But then why did you not just bring him home? Where he belongs."

"Because, I think we both needed a little time to cool off. Besides, he would hardly thank me for going in there and dragging him back by the ear like some errant school boy, sweetheart."

"Perhaps, that is exactly what he needs."

"I'm not his father, Tess. No matter what I might want, a short term care order isn't enough to convince a child that's been neglected and abused to play happy families. Maybe, once he turns eighteen, he will start to see that we are serious about helping him."

"And how will he see that, if he is in some other city?"

"I just .. I don't know how to get through to him, love."

"Perhaps, that is the problem. Perhaps, he is already thinking of us more as his parents than he wishes to admit," Tessa observed. "Such battles are normal between father and sons, non?"

"That's it!" Duncan sat up a little straighter. "Oh sweetheart, I could kiss you."

"I will hold you to that." Tessa smiled. "Now, what are you talking about?"

"Don't you see? If we were just his employers, he would not have been nearly so upset when his "boss" didn't show. And if we were only his friends, he would not have set such store by our promises, that he was angry enough to dump the trophy. Or now be so afraid that that he is a disappointment to me, because he was more concerned about his own feelings, than my being in danger. I can't see why I didn't see it before. Its perfect." Duncan declared.

"It is?"

"Of course. Richie said, he didn't know where he fit in around here. Well, its about time our fine laddie learnt his place."

!!!

The following morning, Richie Ryan tapped his fingers nervously on the arm of the plush leather sofa in the reception Seacouver office of the Saracen Team as he waited to be seen. He glanced up at the clock, 9:05. Normally, by now they would have opened the Store. Mac would be making coffee in the office while he explained something to Richie about the computer or the books, watching him with those warm brown eyes, to make sure he understood, tousling his hair with such casual affection that it made his heart ache.

Trying to distract himself, he picked up one of the glossy magazines on the table and thumbed through it, pausing to run a finger around the collar of his shirt. Man, he hated neckties. He could never seem to do them right. He remembered the first time Mac had caught him at it. He'd expected him to laugh, cos he was such a klutz about it, but Mac had simply come up behind him and said, "Like this." as he deftly tied the knot, his arms resting around his shoulders, his warm breath, ghosting over Richie's ear.

With a sigh, he put the magazine down again and started patting out a rhythm on his thighs, until he noticed the ice maiden on reception giving him a cool stare. Folding his hands, he sat awkwardly in the cheap suit he had borrowed from Gary, which was at least two sizes too big for him. Glancing up he saw two men coming down the hall towards him and he sat up a bit straighter, but they walked past him without a pause in their conversation. A conversation, Richie realised, with a start, that they were conducting entirely in French.

"Oh shit," he muttered. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

Damn. Why hadn't he thought of this before? Of course, Saracen was a French outfit. The guy in charge was a famous French racer from way back when. Frantically, Richie tried to remember the French phrases that Tessa had taught him, when they were clearing out her studio. Man, the look on Mac's face when they had sat down to dinner that night and Richie asked him to pass the potatoes in flawless French was priceless. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard.

Still he didn't think "Passe-moi les pomme de terre, s'il tu plait" would cut it here. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he had remembered it correctly.

As a dark suited businessman came striding purposefully across the room towards him, Richie swallowed over a suddenly dry throat. This wasn't right. He didn't belong here.

But then, who was he kidding? He didn't belong anywhere. Not really.

"M. Ryan, Je vous en prie de m'excuser .." Saracen began, holding out his hand. "I am sorry for to have kept you waiting so long." He continued in heavily accented French.

Richie stood up and took the offered hand. "De rien." He dredged up. He'd said that when Tessa had thanked him for passing the gravy, so he figured it would make sense here. The man nodded agreeably and gestured to his right. "This is Jean Paul Argent, the firm's lawyer. He will be overseeing the finalisation of the contract."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible." A familiar baritone cut in.

Richie's head spun around so quickly, it almost fell off.

"I'm sorry, Sir," the lawyer spoke up. "But this is a private meeting. I will have to ask you to leave."

"Of course," Duncan agreed amiably. Richie looked away. He had hoped the Immortal would at least try to talk him out of this. Then Mac's voice took on a harder edge. "I'll be happy to leave, as soon as you've heard what I have to say."

Richie stilled.

"Sir, if you don't leave, I will be forced to have you arrested." The lawyer continued.

"You can try." Duncan shrugged.

If things hadn't been so serious, Richie would have laughed.

"I'm here to represent M. Ryan's interests," Duncan went on. "I'm afraid, as it stands that contract is illegal and therefore void. Now, we can discuss this now. Or we can discuss it in court."

"Perhaps, we should step into the conference room?" Saracen suggested.

!!!

"This is preposterous!" Jean Paul protested, loudly, now that privacy was assured. "That contract has been checked and re-checked a thousand times. It is 100% legal, valid and watertight."

"I'm sure it is," Duncan agreed calmly. "Except for one small detail. Richie is only seventeen. He's too young to sign."

"Is this true, Jean Paul?" Saracen looked far from pleased.

"I .. um ..," The lawyer looked flustered and sorted through his papers. "I .. er ..I thought he was eighteen."

"I am," Richie shrugged. "Almost."

Jean Paul winced.

"Richie won't be eighteen, for another four weeks," Duncan spoke up. "Until then, this contract is utterly null and void and the only place Richie is going is back home, where he belongs."

Richie looked up sharply. Duncan's face remained expressionless, but his eyes softened slightly as they rested on the lad. And he winked.

Richie almost smiled. But he hadn't hung around Mac without learning a thing or two about deadpan. First, he wanted to see how this thing played out.

"Nonsense," the lawyer rallied. "All we need is a counter signature from one of the boy's parents. Really, M. Macleod, I'm surprised at your lack of knowledge. They usually cover such matters in pre-law."

"Oh, I'm not a lawyer," Duncan smiled dangerously. "I'm Richie's father."

He saw Richie's eyes widen in surprise at the unequivocal statement.

"But .. he's .. you .." Jean Paul was ready to protest. These two did not look remotely alike. They did not even have the same surname.

Duncan looked straight at the teen. "I swore an oath to accept Richie's legal guardianship, that alone makes the lad as much my son, as if he were born to me," Duncan cast a scathing glance at the lawyer. "And if you are so much as thinking about suggesting otherwise, M. Argent, then I suggest you brush up on your knowledge of family court law .. and slander. Because I can assure you, you will need it."

"I'm sure Jean Paul, did not mean to offend," Saracen quickly intervened. "Anyone can see that you care for the boy. None, would do, as you have done today, except on behalf of a beloved son."

"Thank you," Duncan gave him a brief nod. "But I'm afraid, my position stands, Richie will not be ratifying any contract today. If you wish to discuss this further you can contact us in four weeks. We'll be leaving now."

Duncan stood up.

"Don't I get any say in this?" Richie spoke for the first time.

Duncan took a deep breath.

"No." he spoke in a tone of absolute finality.

It was perhaps, the longest five seconds of the Immortal's life. He knew he was taking a gamble, being so heavy handed with the lad. He just hoped and prayed that he had read the signs right and that it would pay off. And then, at last, a hint of a smile ghosted around the teen's lips.

"OK," He agreed, as he stood up.

"Wait a minute," Jean Paul scrambled after them, anxious to save face. "What will happen when the four weeks are up?"

"That's up to Richie." Duncan didn't look back as he guided the lad out of the room.

"Perhaps he will sign, after all, in four weeks." Jean Paul looked at Saracen hopefully.

"You are a fool," Saracen scoffed. "M. Macloed, he is not thinking about the racing. He is thinking only that he has four weeks to convince the boy that he truly desires to be his father."

!!!

"You know, you probably got that guy fired." Richie observed, as they emerged onto the sidewalk.

"Good," Duncan deadpanned. "Abducting a minor is a serious offence."

"Hey, I'm almost eighteen .."

"Almost .." Duncan agreed, hiding his smile. "Look, Rich. You know that if this was what you really want to do then I would back you to the hilt, right?"

"So," Richie looked down and scuffed a foot. "Why'd ya come then?"

"Richie, look at me," Hesitantly, Richie rasied his head, but when there eyes met, Duncan saw the clear challenge. He had better make this good. "Because, I didn't want you to leave. Not like this. Not while it was in my power to prevent it."

"What you said in there, .. about .. you know .. you were just saying that, to mess with that lawyer, right? Cos, its not like you're really, you know .. my father .. or anything .."

"The law, says otherwise, Tough Guy," Duncan grinned at him. "That means you're stuck with me."

"Yeah, but that's all a load of crock, right?" Richie asked, hesitantly, his blue eyes very bright..

"Not to me." Duncan vowed.

"So, what happens now?" Richie asked awkwardly, feeling a little nonplussed by the Immortal's evident sincerity. "Do we get to pick out matching sweaters?"

"Now, we go home," Duncan slipped an arm around his shoulders. "Because, I've got a surprise for you."

"Yeah?" A surprise, Richie could deal with that. His face blossomed into a grin. "What is it?"

"If I told you that, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?"


	9. Ch 9

AN – Many many thanks for the enthusiastic feedback. And Lori, you have to stop reading my mind! Oh and I couldn't fit all the loose ends into one chapter, so there's still one more to go.

!!!

"So, where is it?" Richie looked expectantly at the Immortal as the T-Bird, pulled into the alley behind the Store. "Is it an 'outside type' surprise, like out here in the alley? Or is it a 'can't be kept inside but needs to be undercover, in Tessa's workshop,' type surprise? Or maybe, it's a 'bulky, top of the wardrobe' type of surprise?"

"You know, you're gonna be a nightmare come Christmas." Duncan observed, as he led the way inside.

Christmas? Richie looked at the Immortal's retreating back. Mac thought he was still gonna be here come Christmas? The thought gave him a warm glow of pleasure.

Taking the stairs two at a time, to try and catch up with the Immortal, Richie continued. "OK, then its gotta be one of those tiny, but real expensive, surprises that you can hide among all those lacy bits in Tessa's underwear drawer." He concluded as he burst into the kitchen.

"And what would you know about the contents of my underwear drawer?" Tessa broke her kiss with the Immortal, to turn and smile wickedly at the teen.

"Tess!" Richie blushed furiously. "Um. Er. Laundry, I swear. That's all. I didn't .. I would never .. Nuh uh .. I mean, I don't even know what some of those things are for!"

"Rich," Duncan advised. "Shut up, now."

"Yeah, right. Shutting up," Richie took a deep breath and then broke into a big smile, as if he had just noticed the Frenchwoman. "Tess! You're home, its so great to see you, did you have a good trip?"

Duncan and Tessa exchanged a quick, amused, glance.

"Yes, thank you," Knowing that Richie would never initiate a greeting, Tessa gave him a soft peck on the cheek, that set him blushing furiously. "It went very well, I managed to sell several important pieces."

"That's great, Tess," Richie enthused. Then he looked at the Immortal. "So, was that my surprise?" he asked, trying hard to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"Am I not enough?" Tessa teased.

"Yeah, sure, I mean, its great that you're home, really great .." Richie assured her hurriedly.

"But you hoped for something else, perhaps?" Tessa asked, amused, as she went over to her bag and pulled out a package. "This is for you."

"Oh cool, thanks Tess," Richie seized the package eagerly and started to feel it all over. He paused fractionally, his expression stilling, causing Duncan to straighten slightly in concern, Richie pasted on a bright smile and ripped away at the paper, to reveal a pale blue button down oshirt.

"Gee," Richie enthused, perhaps just a fraction too much, Duncan thought. "That's just, wow Tess, I don't know what to say. Thanks."

"You are welcome." Tessa smiled.

"What about me?" Duncan pouted.

"You'll get your present later." Tessa promised, with a suggestive smirk.

"Geez, you guys," Richie protested. "Can't you ever just buy each other _normal_ presents? Like soap or something?"

"Hey," Duncan pulled him into a loose headlock. "Watch it, laddie. Or you won't get my surprise."

"I still get that?" Richie perked up.

"Its in your bedroom." Duncan let him go.

As Richie shot off towards his room, Duncan took a moment to give Tessa another kiss. "You didn't need to come home early, but thank you."

"I thought you needed some help." Tessa smiled impishly at him.

"Hey, I'm not doing that badly, I got him out of the contract, didn't I? And, I got the trophy out of the lake."

"I wish I had been here to see that." Tessa giggled.

"Hey, it wasn't easy. Do you have any idea how many lakes there are in Seacouver?"

"Not at all."

"No," Duncan made a face. "Neither did I." he nuzzled her hair. "Did you keep the receipt for that shirt?"

"Yes, of course," Tessa pulled back a little so she could look him in the eye. "He does not like it?"

"I don't think Rich, has had enough practice with gifts to see clothes as proper presents. Not to mention, its not exactly his style, sweetheart."

"It could be." Tessa protested.

"Or not." Duncan grinned.

"He is being very quiet," Tessa commented. "Do you think he is alright?"

!!!

Richie was sitting motionless on the bed, looking up at the new shelf that the Immortal had fixed early that morning. The soft pine was aged to a warm honey glow and the plinths were decorated with an elegant simplicity which made it clear that the Immortal hadn't just popped out to the nearest Home Depot.

Yet, it wasn't the shelf that had captured Richie's attention.

Sitting in the centre of the shelf, in pride of place, was the trophy that he had held aloft with such pride on Saturday afternoon, only to send it tumbling into the depths of the lake, a few hours later.

"Rich?" Duncan spoke quietly from the doorway. "You OK, Tough Guy?"

Nothing.

"You talk to him," Tessa murmured. "I will start lunch."

"I thought you wanted to help?" Duncan hissed. "You talk to him. I'll make lunch."

"He needs to talk to you Duncan. Sorry worrying so much, just follow your instincts."

"You want me to take him out and kill a few boars?" Duncan rolled his eyes. "At least you know what it is like to be a teenager sometime this century."

"But I have never been a boy, who needs his father. I think you can help him with that, non?"

As she kissed his cheek and made her way down the corridor, Duncan tried to swallow his nerves. Exactly when had this annoying, irritating, infuriating, amusing, quick witted, brave, adorable, lad, wormed his way so deeply into his heart? He didn't know. He just knew he couldn't bear to lose him.

"Hey, mind if I join you?"

No reaction.

Well, at least he hadn't told him to get lost .. or worse. Duncan decided to take that as a good sign and settled himself next to the teen.

Richie stiffened.

Not such a good sign.

Duncan waited. He wanted to give the teen a change to say what was on his mind. After ten minutes he was almost about to give up and break the silence.

"How did you find it?" Richie's voice was quiet and he didn't look at the Immortal.

"I got out a map, worked out the route from the Stadium, and started searching every body of water I could find."

"Mac, I saw it sink."

"So? I'm good swimmer."

_That_ got him a look.

"You swam in Centennial Lake?"

"Uh huh."

Richie looked back at the trophy, a small smile hovering around his lips.

"You know there are all kinds of bugs and stuff in there, right?"

"I think I'm immune."

"With all the old car parts and junk in there I'm surprised you could find anything."

"Well, it helps that I have 20/20 vision and I can breath under water."

A raised brow.

"You're snowing me, right?"

"Maybe." Duncan grinned.

"You know there are bye laws about swimming in Municipal Lakes?" Richie shook his head, as he stood up to examine the trophy. "You, my friend, just broke the law."

"In my day, a man could bathe where he chose." Duncan huffed.

"Get real, Mac, I've seen the films, everything belonged to the rich dudes, you'd like as not get your bits blown off by the Gamekeeper or whoever for making his Lordship's water grimy with your lowlife dirt," Richie picked the trophy up off the shelf and settled back down next to the Immortal. "It's a shame about the .." He stopped. The reverse of the trophy was as smooth as the front.

"Big dent in the back where you drop kicked it into touch?" Duncan nudged him. "Didn't I tell you, I used to be a Silversmith?"

"You fixed it?"

"It wasn't that hard. Tess had all the tools I needed."

"Is there anything you haven't done before?"

"I've never been a Da, to a teenage lad before." Duncan said seriously "So, I might not get everything right, straight off, but I'll try never to make the same mistake twice."

"Is that a promise?" Richie teased.

"You're just asking for trouble aren't you?" Duncan tousled his hair.

"Well, I guess we're even. Cos .. well .. I never had much of a Dad before, unless you count Teresa, so I dunno Mac, maybe we'd be better off just being friends."

"I canna be your Father and your friend?"

Richie gave him a quick, vulnerable, look, that said quite clearly he thought that particular idea was a load of crock. Duncan sighed, clearly he had a lot of rebuilding to do, before the lad would even entertain being part of this family in anything but a legal and technical sense.

'Sides," Richie shrugged awkwardly. "This Dad stuff, only lasts for another few weeks. If we were friends, well, maybe, perhaps, we could keep in touch, .. or something?"

Or maybe not. Duncan realised, as he looked at the teen in stunned amazement. This was progress indeed.

"Or not," Richie amended, hurriedly, "I mean, soon as its legal, I'm outta here. Or, before, if you like. I can .."

"Richie, you will always have a place here," Duncan assured him. "And if you ever even think about not keeping in touch .." He leaned in to tickle the lad.

"OK, OK, I get it," Richie laughed, as he pulled out of reach.

Actually, Duncan seriously doubted that the lad had any idea, as yet, just how deep his feelings ran. Still, it wouldn't hurt to give him a push in the right direction.

"Here," Duncan pulled a small, tissue wrapped package from his pocket. "I realised, I never got you a victory gift. So .."

"You didn't have to," Richie made no move to take it. "You already did so much .. the shelf .. the trophy."

"Richie, just take it."

The teen carefully unwrapped the fragile package to reveal a hand tooled, black leather bracelet, similar in style to those Richie already worn around his wrist. But a single glance told him that this was in a different league from those he had stolen from the stalls at the craft market down by the harbour. The leather was soft and supple, polished to a dark sheen, the pattern of an eagle and a bear, was done with intricate care, by hand, Richie guessed, not stamped by a machine, and the leather ties were finished with two, highly polished, blue glass beads.

"Oh man, this must have cost a fortune."

"Hardly anything, actually." Duncan's lips quirked. "Just the cost of the materials."

"You made this?" At the Immortal's nod, Richie's jaw dropped. He wanted to ask about it. It looked like something from the Native American Indian display he had seen when his class took a field trip to Seacouver Museum. But the sadness in Duncan's eyes stilled his tongue and fuelled his decision.

"Mac, I can't take this. It looks like its really precious. I would hate for it to get broken or anything."

"Good," Duncan surprised him. "Cos, if you are worrying about harm coming to the bracelet, then you will take better care of yourself and you are far more precious to me than any bracelet."

"Oh." Richie managed. "Mac .. I .."

"Here, let me help you." Dumbly, Richie held out his wrist as the Immortal deftly tied the bracelet on. The laces made for an adjustable fit, so it wasn't too big for the lad. Duncan nodded once, satisfied. It looked .. right.

"Um. I got something for you too," Richie shifted slightly on the bed. "I mean, I didn't buy it or anything. But well, I wanted to apologise. You've never given me any reason to doubt you. I shoulda trusted you and not thought you were like all those other dudes. I'm really sorry, Mac."

Duncan's jaw tightened slightly. He wanted to know just how many harms these other dudes had inflicted upon his lad, but looking at his open, unturned face, he knew this was not the time.

"Aye, lad," Duncan reached out to rub his hand around the boy's neck. "I'm sorry too."

"Sorry, enough to teach me how to use the Katana?"

"Not even close."

"You know, Mac," Richie stood up and put the trophy back. "That's a pretty big shelf for one trophy."

"First of many."

"You think?" Richie blinked "Naw, after you did your big bad Dad act, I don't figure Saracen will touch me with a barge pole. I mean, not that I mind, honest.."

"Rich, you have a real talent there, it would be a shame to waste it."

"But .."

"We'll work something out Rich." Duncan stood and offered the teen a hand up.

"You know something, don't you?" Richie realised, as the Immortal led the way towards the kitchen. "Mac, what do you know?"

!!!

AN - For those of you who wanted Mac to adopt Richie in this story, I'd love to but I _can't_ because it is set before he events in "I never liked Art .." but you know I have a pre-disposition towards happy endings (grins) ..more to come ..


	10. Ch 10

AN – Thank you, thank you, thank you, for the reviews. Well here we are. All loose ends tied up. All problems resolved. All pigs fed and ready to fly. And yeah, I already have a new story (with Methos in it) in the works!

!!!

Almost as soon as lunch was over Duncan had hustled Richie out to the T-Bird, claiming that they didn't want to be late. He refused to give him any clue as to where they might be going, except to look him up and down with a slight smile and suggest that he might want to change out of that suit. Two hours later, Richie stared out of the window of the T-Bird, looking at the scenery. He wasn't about to admit that he has no idea where he was. Some little town or other.

"We're here." Duncan announced.

Richie got out and looked at the non descript wooden house. It was well cared for, the veranda running along the front, dotted with pot plants and hanging baskets. But he couldn't imagine what they might find here that would justify the drive out of the city.

"C'mon," Duncan came around the T-Bird and headed up the steps. "He'll be out back."

"Shouldn't we at least knock or something?" Richie hung back

"No point," Duncan looked back over his shoulder as he led the way through the house. "He already knows we are here. Besides, he's expecting us."

They emerged onto the back porch to find what looked to Richie like a motorcycle graveyard. Makes and Models of all descriptions lay in various states of repair

"Aw man, this is awesome," Richie blinked. "Look, is that a Vincent Black Shadow over there?"

"It sure is," another voice cut in. "You must have a good eye. Under all that dirt it is pretty hard to tell the make, never mind the model."

Richie turned to look at the speaker, who was carefully laying a rapier to one side.

And his jaw dropped.

Standing in front of him was the unmistakable figure of Pete Goddard. The man whose face had stared out the cover of a thousand motorcycle magazines when Richie was younger. The man for whom he and Gary had lied and tricked their way into the Seacouver Stadium to see him take the title. He was only eight at the time. Two years later, at the very height of his fame, the World Champion, multi-millionaire and National Hero had died in a spectacular crash.

"Hey," The man smiled at his confusion and held out his hand. "I'm Pete Goddard."

"But you're dead!"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt the red flush rise in his cheeks. He wasn't sure what counted for good manners when meeting Immortals, but he was fairly sure that reminding them of when they crashed and burned, wasn't it. He looked down at the ground, unwilling to meet Duncan's disapproving gaze. Maybe, if he stared at it long enough, it would open and swallow him up.

Then he realised that the two Immortals were laughing.

"Yep, I am," Goddard made a face. "Or at least, Pete Goddard is dead to the world, for a generation at least."

"Maybe, more," Duncan intoned sternly, but the warm had on his shoulder reassured Richie that the Immortal wasn't angry at him. Richie looked up.

"How come?"

"I managed to die in a blaze of publicity in full view of the world's press," Pete shrugged. "But who knew I was gonna pop right back up again?"

"So, you weren't Immortal, before?"

"Sure, I was. I just didn't know it yet."

"Was Mac your teacher?"

"Him? No," Pete snorted. "I woulda taught him to handle a bike much better than he does. Naw, we have a mutual friend. Hey, I heard Gregor got back into his photography gig."

"Really?" Duncan raised a brow. "He's not being a Doctor anymore?"

"Not last I heard," Pete shrugged. "Maybe, he got tired of it."

"Maybe." Duncan shifted his hand to the small of Richie's back. "Pete, this is .."

"Hey, I know who this is," Pete grinned. "I saw him on National TV. Richard H Ryan, world famous motorcyclist to be."

"You saw me on TV?" Richie shook his head. "Man, that's weird. I used to watch you all the time." Then he grinned, that cocky smart alec grin, Duncan was none too fond of. Not least, because the lad only used it when he was lying, none too sure of himself or deliberately trying to be annoying. "So, how'd I do?"

"You won didn't you?" Goddard regarded him levelly. "What more do you want?"

"I want …" Richie pressed his lips together and looked away.

"Go on." Duncan encouraged quietly.

"Its like, anyone can win if the other guys are no good. I want to be the best. I want to able to really_ feel _the bike, you know?

"Yeah, I sure do," Goddard gave him a respectful look. "Alright, you looked pretty good, but its hard to tell, what with all those fancy gizmos they can do with camera angles and stuff these days. So, what do you say, Richard, you wanna try a little one on one?"

"He prefers Richie." Duncan correctly subtly.

"Well Richie it is, then .." Goddard looked up as the phone rang. "Excuse me a sec .."

As Goddard went back into the house Richie gave the Immortal a sharp look, his eyes narrowed. "How did you know that?" he murmured.

"You told me."

"I did?" Richie blinked. "When?"

"Somewhere amid all the shouting."

"Oh." Richie made a face. He had been pretty upset. But it was kinda worrying that he didn't remember everything he had said.

"You didn't tell me why." Duncan's quiet voice reassured

Richie glanced up sharply. He was usually pretty good at hiding his feelings. How was it that this man could read him so well? _Maybe, cos you're not trying so hard to hide 'em._A little voice inside him mocked. _Maybe, you want him to notice._

And, maybe, he owed him something of an explanation.

"It's what _they_ call me." He scowled.

"They?" The Immortal's eyes had softened, recognising that Richie was finding this difficult to talk about.

"You know," Richie shrugged. "Them. Social workers. Judges. Cops. They act like they know you, like they know what's best for you. It's for your own good, Richard. You'll really like it here, Richard. Cept they don't even know the name you go by. It sucks, you know?" Richie took a shallow breath. "You .. I know you're not like that, but when you call me that .." he trailed off not wanting to offend the Immortal.

"It kinda feels the same?" Duncan offered gently.

"Yeah," Richie nodded, grateful for his understanding.

"Then I won't call you that anymore." Duncan assured him.

"Works for me." Richie smiled shyly.

"I'm glad to hear it, Tough Guy." Duncan tousled his hair.

"Man, I can't believe you know Pete Goddard," Richie beamed, anxious to change the subject. "I mean, I figured all Immortals were like zillions of years old."

"Hey, four hundred, is not that old," Duncan cuffed him, good naturedly.

"Alright," Goddard came back out carrying a motorcycle helmet. "Sorry about that, it was a booking for an AMA superbike race in Vegas."

"Race?" Richie blinked. "Don't get me wrong. But should you still be hanging out around the circuit?

"No, he should not," Duncan glowered.  "By rights, he shouldn't even be in the country."

"Not that again?" Goddard rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Mac. No-one is gonna recognise me."

"You think?" Richie looked him up and down. "Cos from where I'm standing, you look just like you."

"Nuh uh," Pete shook his head. "Mark Goodwin, Pete Goddard look a likey, at your service. I make mega bucks out of it too. Well, I should, I've got all the moves down pat."

"You're impersonating yourself?" Richie laughed. "Man, that's wild."

"Its foolish and reckless and just plain daft, is what it is," Duncan muttered. "How you ever got Gregor to agree."

"Simple. I didn't tell him. Besides, this isn't the dark ages, Mac. I died on CNN. You don't get any more official than that. So, I look like Pete Goddard. So what?  People aren't gonna make the connection because they _know _I'm dead. They already saw me die with their own eyes."

"He has a point, Mac." Richie agreed. "I mean, the truth is just too out there."

"Don't you start." Duncan rolled his eyes.

"I'm done."

"In that case, you want to take a spin on the Triumph Trident, Richie?"

"Oh man, can I?"," Richie jumped off the porch into the dirt towards the bikes, then skidded to a halt, looking back anxiously at the Immortal. "I don't have my helmet or anything .."

"Yeah, you do," Duncan grinned at him. "Its all in the trunk."

!!!

Two hours later Duncan set the tray down on the small table on the back porch and looked over at the dust covered boot hanging out of the hammock, slung across one corner. "Rich, do you want ice in your lemonade?"

The hammock swung gently, and silently, in the breeze.

Duncan stepped quietly over to the hammock and peered over the edge. Sure enough, Richie had dozed off. Duncan smiled down at the sleeping teenager, covered from head in a fine layer of dust, his mouth slightly open as he snored softly, he looked relaxed and happy and positively angelic. Duncan chuckled, he could just imagine Richie's reaction to such a observation. Unconsciously, Duncan reached out and brushed a lock of stray hair out off his face. Lord, he knew what they said about people looking younger in their sleep, but Richie looked ..

"He asleep?" Pete's amused tone cut into his thoughts.

"Aye," Duncan agreed fondly, as he came back over to the table and sat down. "You must have given him quite a workout. Normally, we can't get him to sit still for more than about two seconds."

"Hey, it was all him," Pete shrugged. "He set the pace."

"So," Duncan picked up his glass and asked the question that had brought him here. "Is he as good as Saracen thought he was?"

"'Fraid not." Pete grinned broadly.

"He's better?" Duncan realised.

"Mac, the kid's a natural. I was impressed." Goddard leant back in his chair and propped his feet on the rail.

"Is he better than you?" Duncan teased, taking a sip of his drink.

To his surprise, Pete gave the question serious consideration.

"Now? No. When I was his age? Yeah, probably. In a decade or so, who knows, we could have a World Champion on our hands."

"We?" Duncan raised a brow.

"What? "C'mon Mac, you didn't come all the way out here just to try out my lemonade."

"You're dead, remember?"

 "And I got a new identity."

Duncan snorted his opinion of that.

Look Mac, the kid's got real talent, and you are not the man to help him with this."

"You really think he could be a World Champion?"

"If he lives long enough," Goddard nodded. Then grinned, uncomfortable with his own solemnity. "Or until he discovers girls."

"Its too late for that," Duncan shook his head fondly. "He already likes to think of himself as a "chick magnet."

"I bet he's a real heartbreaker too. How did you meet him?"

"Long story." Duncan had promised Richie a fresh start. He could hardly have that if he told all and sundry about his former occupation. "We just kinda .. ran into each other."

"I take it he doesn't know about ..?"

"No, and I'd like to keep it that way. He deserves a chance at a normal life."

"He means a lot to you, huh?"

"Yeah," Duncan looked over at the sleeping form. "He does."

"Then take my advice Mac. Buy him a decent bike, something that can really haul ass, and let him have fun with it. Give him a normal childhood. In a few years, if he still wants to try his hand at the pro-circuit, I'll turn myself into my illegitimate son and put together a team that will have Saracen eating our dust."

!!!

"Alright," That evening Duncan sat at the kitchen table and looked down at his list of contact telephone numbers. "Angie, Gary, Marco, that's kinda short Tough Guy, anyone else?"

"Why?" Richie challenged, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the whole process.  "You gonna put together a surprise birthday party?"

"Rich, we've been through this," Duncan sighed. "If you get kidnapped by an evil Immortal, I want to know where you are before he plays tic tac toe on your chest, OK?"

"You could add  Powell to the list."

"Richie." Duncan warned.

"Alright already, Teresa I guess." Richie gave him the number.

"Your foster mother?" Tessa put in. "You're still in touch with her?"

"Yeah, she was nice. Took me in for a real long time." Richie looked awkward.

"I would love to meet her," Tessa smiled. "Perhaps, we could invite her to lunch?"

"You can't do that!" Richie blurted, rather too quickly.

"Sure we can. There's this modern invention called the telephone." Duncan grinned. Clearly, Richie was worried his old foster mother might let slip a few embarrassing stories.

"Yeah but," Richie scrambled for a reason that the Immortal would accept. "She works full time. Right across town and she only gets an hour for lunch. Her boss is a real jerk, he'd most likely fire her if she got back late."

"So, she can come to dinner." Tessa amended.

"Aw, c'mon Tess, have a heart," Richie tried to talk his way out of it. "She has photos. Lotsa photos. You don't really want to torture me like this do you?"

"Alright. Whatever you say, Rich, we won't ask her." Duncan allowed.

"You mean that?" Richie looked up.

"Of course, a Macleod always keeps his word," Duncan smirked. "You can do it."

!!!

"Hey," Duncan knocked softly and popped his head around the door. "You still awake?"

"Yeah," Richie sat up on the bed and used the remote to mute the sound on the TV. "You need something?"

"Uh huh," Duncan pushed the door fully open and walked over towards the bed. "I need someone to drink this hot chocolate I made."

"Wow, thanks." Richie reached up eagerly for the mug. Reminding Macleod of a much younger child. Still, the lad hadn't had much cosseting in his life. That must be it.

Richie paused.

"You put marshmallows in it."

"You like marshmallows."

"And whipped cream." Richie accused.

"You have a problem with that?"

"Depends," Richie scowled. "You're always telling me that too much sugar is bad for me."

"So, I can't spoil you once in a while?"

"Without me being injured, tortured, waking from a nightmare or the like? Not unless you want something."

"Alright, you got me," Duncan admitted sitting on the bed. "I wanted to apologise."

"You sure?" Richie raised a brow. "Cos, usually it's the other way around."

"You dinna do anything wrong lad. You trusted me and I gave you reason to doubt that trust and for that I am truly sorry."

"You couldn't help it."

"Yes, I could," Duncan sighed. He had thought about this a great deal. "I thought I had an obligation to meet her at the time and place of her choosing. But that wasn't honour. It was vanity. Lest she think me a coward."

"Mac, she challenged you. You had no choice."

"Yeah, I did," Duncan reached out and cupped his hand around Richie's jaw. "I could have chosen to put my family first. If she wanted to challenge me that badly she would have found me soon enough.."

"Family?" Richie quavered. As if the word was entirely unfamiliar to him.

"Aye, lad."

"But, its not like we even have that much in common."

More than you know, my lad, Duncan thought sadly. Still, that was besides the point.

"Rich, families aren't about favourite foods or tastes in music. They are about love."

"Love?" Richie's face twisted as if the word was distasteful. "Yeah. Right."

"Hey," Duncan chided. "Don't knock it till you've tried it, alright?"

"Mac, I've tried it plenty of times. It never works. Can't we just be friends?"

"Nope. Sorry."

"Maac."

"You're just going to have to get used to it , Tough Guy," Duncan indulged himself by tucked the blankets a little more firmly around the pouting teenager. "I love you and that's an end to it."

"I thought you weren't gonna make any more promises you couldn't keep."

"I'm not."

"Things change, Macleod," Richie looked away. "People change. What if .. what if I wasn't what you thought I was? What if I lied or something?"

"Then we'd talk. I'd forgive you and we'd move on." Duncan assured him. "Now, go to sleep."

"You'd forgive me?" Richie's eyes were as wide as saucers.

Duncan looked down at the lad. True, he was streetwise, an accomplished thief no less, smart mouthed and cocky, but he was also loyal to a fault and a defender of the innocent. Time was boys younger than him were hung or deported for stealing a crust of bread to feed their starving siblings. He couldn't imagine any "crime" this child would commit that he wouldn't find morally justifiable.

"Aye, laddie," he vowed, brushing a lock of hair from the lad's brow. "You have my word on that."


End file.
